THE  MAMMON 

OF 

UNRIGHTEOUSNESS 


BY 

HJALMAR  HJORTH  BOYESON 

AUFHOR  OF 

'GITNNAR,"   "IDYLS   OF   NORWAY/'   "THE    LIGHT   OF   HKR   COUNTE 
STANCE,*"  ETC.,   ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
UNITED    STATES    BOOK    COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS   TO 

JOHN    W.    LOVELL    COMPANY 

1 50  WORTH  ST.,   COR.  MISSION  PLACE; 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 

BY 
UNITED  STATES   BOOK   COMPANY. 


PEEFAOE. 


/SI/ 


A  GOOD  friend  of  mine,  who  has  read  this  novel  in  man- 
uscript, is  of  opinion  that  every  book  of  any  conse- 
quence should  have  a  preface.  A  prefatory  flourish  of 
bugles  announcing  the  approach  of  the  procession  arouses 
attention,  he  thinks,  and  tunes  the  mind  into  a  mood  of 
expectancy.  Now  if  he  had  offered  to  sound  this  heraldic 
blast  for  me  he  would  have  relieved  me  of  the  embar- 
rassment of  blowing  my  own  trumpet.  If  I  buckle  on  my 
brazen  armor  of  self-esteem,  and  with  na'ive  frankness 
blare  forth  my  conviction  that  this  is  a  very  remarkable 
novel,  of  the  realistic  kind,  I  shall  challenge  the  pug- 
nacity of  the  whole  field  of  critics,  and  run  the  risk  of  be- 
ing thrown  by  some  particularly  adventurous  free  lance. 
Wishing  to  avoid  this  risk  I  will  omit  the  trumpets,  and 
for  the  sake  of  appearances  sing  small  : 

"  Pastorem,  Tityre,  pingues 
Pascere  oportet  oves,  deductum  dicere  carmen." 

In  fact,  this  is  partly  arpastoral  narrative,  devoid  of  sen- 
sational incidents,  and  it  behooves  me  to  content  myself 
with  a  very  slender  prefatory  note. 

What  I  have  chiefly  at  heart  is  to  guard  against  misap- 
prehension. I  have  used  a  definite  locality  which  many, 
no  doubt,  will  recognize  (it  is  impossible  for  me  to  write 
a  novel  without  having  a  distinct  and  real  topography  in 
my  mind),  and  to  some  the  conclusion  may  not  appear  un- 
warranted that  my  characters  have  also  their  originals 
among  the  inhabitants  of  that  region.  It  is  this  inference 
I  wish  to  guard  against.  My  life  and  daily  intercourse 
with  people  supply  me  with  constant  hints,  which  form,  as 
it  were,  nuclei,  lying  dormant  for  a  period  in  my  mind, 
drawing  from  my  experience  and  observation  such  nour- 
ishment as  may  prove  organicajjy  assimilable,  until  they 


:  '••'PREFACE. 

,   •  *  • 
•"•"•••      •••      • 

ady  tV  step  forifi'as* .characters  into  the  light  of  pub- 
licity. But  it  never  occurs  to  me  to  put  an  acquaintance 
bodily  into  a  book  with  his  appearance,  peculiarities,  and 
the  circumstances  of  his  life.  I  have  known  during  the 
twenty-two  years  of  my  sojourn  in  the  United  States  four 
or  five  founders  and  conspicuous  benefactors  of  institu- 
tions of  learning,  and  they  all  had  certain  pervasive  traits 
in  common  which  constitute  a  type.  This  type,  which  I 
have  endeavored  to  present  in  the  Honorable  Obed  Lar- 
kin,  has  borrowed  something  from  all  of  them,  but  is  not  a 
copy  of  any  of  them.  If  they  were  all  to  sue  me  for  libel, 
I  should  have  to  plead  equally  guilty  and  equally  innocent 
toward  all. 

My  one  endeavor  in  this  book  has  been  to  depict  per- 
sons and  conditions  which  are  profoundly  and  typically 
American.  I  have  disregarded  all  romantic  traditions, 
and  simply  asked  myself  in  every  instance,  not  whether  it 
was  amusing,  but  whether  it  was  true  to  the  logic  of  real- 
ity— true  in  color  and  tone  to  the  American  sky,  the  Amer- 
ican soil,  the  American  character. 

COLUMBIA  COLLEGE,  NEW  YORK, 
May,  1891. 


THE 

MAMMON  OF  UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

A    KEYNOTE. 

"  I  mean  to  be  true  to  myself — true  to  my  convictions," 
ejaculated  Alexander  Larkin,  impetuously,  and  the  echo 
flung  back  the  words  with  the  same  impetuosity  from  the 
rock  opposite. 

"  I  mean  to  succeed,"  said  Horace,  his  brother,  and  the 
echo  immediately  asserted,  with  the  same  positiveness, 
that  it  meant  to  succeed. 

"  Do  let  us  row  further  up  the  lake,  where  we  can  escape 
that  ridiculous  echo,"  said  Alexander,  striking  the  water 
with  his  oars. 

"  All  right,"  assented  his  brother. 

They  rowed  rapidly,  for  about  fifteen  minutes,  past 
green,  smiling  slopes,  covered  with  wheat -fields  and 
meadow -land,  intersected  here  and  there  by  deep,  pine- 
clad  ravines,  through  which  swollen  creeks  poured  their 
muddy  waters  into  the  lake.  It  was  one  of  the  minor 
geological  basins,  in  the  middle  of  the  State  of  New  York, 
thirty  or  forty  miles  long,  and  but  a  few  miles  in  width. 
The  lake  which  received  the  surface  water  of  this  basin 
was  also  long  and  narrow  ;  but  the  creeks,  three  of  which 
had  united  at  its  southern  end,  were,  with  their  deposits 
of  mud,  forming  a  fertile  but  malarious  delta,  which  was 
constantly  encroaching  upon  the  territory  of  the  lake.  It 
was  upon  this  delta  that  the  town  of  Torryville  was  situ- 
ated. 

The  two  brothers,  as  they  skimmed  along  over  the  shin- 
ing waters,  paid  little  heed  to  th»  beauty  of  the  landscape, 


6  THE  MAMMON 

with  its  softly  undulating  lines  against  the  blue  horizon. 
They  were  both  intent  upon  the  subject  of  their  late  dis- 
pute, and  each  was  thinking  of  the  argument  with  which 
he  meant  to  checkmate  the  other,  when  the  discussion  was 
to  be  resumed. 

Horace,  the  elder,  was  tall  and  strongly  built,  with  a 
large,  bony  frame,  and  a  countenance  which  expressed 
shrewdness  and  determination.  It  was  not  a  handsome  face, 
but  it  was  strongly  individualized  and  interesting.  It  was 
the  face  of  a  clever  man — a  face  which  bore  the  impress  of 
a  self-reliant  spirit.  There  was  a  look  of  shrewd  observa- 
tion in  his  gray  eyes,  and  in  their  glance  something  dis- 
respectful and  good-natured,  which  was  distinctly  Ameri- 
can. The  mouth  was  rudely  drawn  and  partly  covered  by 
a  coarse,  reddish-brown  mustache,  innocent  of  all  orna- 
mental purpose.  The  chin  was  strong,  self-assertive,  ar- 
gumentative, and  was  often  thrust  forward  with  a  pecul- 
iarly combative  air.  The  brown  hair,  approaching  the 
color  known  as  ashy-brown,  was  rather  short,  parted  on 
the  left  side,  and  coarse  as  a  brush.  The  whole  face  was, 
perhaps,  a  trifle  crude,  and,  to  a  fastidious  person,  not 
wholly  agreeable,  but  it  was  a  face  which  took  hold  of  you 
— which  it  was  difficult  to  forget.  It  was  full  of  force  and 
rude  energy.  It  was  said  in  the  village  that  Horace  Lar- 
kin  was  a  thunderin'  smart  chap ;  and  no  one  who  saw 
him  would  be  apt  to  dispute  this  verdict. 

Alexander  Larkin,  who  was  two  years  younger  than  his 
brother,  was  slighter  in  figure  and  more  delicately  made. 
There  was  something  frank,  open,  and  youthfully  charm- 
ing in  his  appearance,  which  Horace  entirely  lacked. 
Out  of  his  clear  blue  eyes  spoke  a  soul  in  which  there  was 
no  guile.  In  the  soft  contour  of  his  face,  in  the  fresh, 
handsome  curves  of  his  lips,  in  the  blondness  of  his  hair — 
nay,  in  his  whole  personality — there  was  something  chaste, 
and  sweet,  and  virginal.  It  was  impossible  not  to  like  him, 
as  one  likes  spring,  and  youth,  and  all  things  fair  and  per- 
ishable. That  way  of  looking  out  into  life  through  a  pair 
of  unclouded  blue  eyes,  with  frank  curiosity  and  delight, 
somehow  arouses  a  pathetic  pleasure,  tempered  with  com- 
passion, in  hearts  which  have  long  since  forfeited  this 
privilege.  You  would  not  for  the  world  disillusionize  the 
dear  boy  ;  life  will  soon  make  havoc  of  his  illusions.  In 
youth  it  is,  after  all,  pardonable  to  have  no  very  well-de- 
fined individuality — to  swim  joyously  in  the  broad,  uni- 
versal current,  without  having  any  urgent  cause  for  di- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  f 

verging.  It  was  so  with  Alexander  Larkin  ;  he  was  what 
most  young  men  are  whom  corruption  has  not  touched  ; 
only  he  was  rather  handsomer  and  cleverer  than  the  ma- 
jority. 

The  two  brothers  had  gradually  struck  out  into  the  mid- 
dle of  the  lake,  where  the  echo  from  the  shores  would  not 
mock  their  conversation. 

"You  were  saying,"  began  Aleck,  as  he  was  familiarly 
called,  leaning  forward  and  resting  on  his  oars  ;  "  you  were 
saying  that  you  meant  to  succeed." 

"Yes,"  replied  Horace,  "and  you  were  saying  that  you 
did  not." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  exclaimed  the  younger  brother, 
with  animation  ;  "  I  said  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  said  I 
meant  to  be  true  to  my  convictions." 

"Well,  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

"  Of  course,  I  know  you  say  that  to  tease  me.  But, 
seriously,  Horace,  for  a  man  of  twenty-eight,  you  are  an 
inveterate  cynic.  You  have  no  poetry  in  you,  no  ideals." 

"You  could  not  pay  me  a  greater  compliment.  Life's 
substance  is  prose,  and  it  is  this  prose  I  mean  to  master." 

"Life's  substance  is  just  as  much  poetry.  It  is  only  to 
the  average  unideal  man  that  it  looks  like  prose." 

"The  average  unideal  man  you  will  usually  find  to  be 
the  successful  man,  at  least  in  a  democracy.  The  world 
is  made  by  average  men  for  average  men.  Civilization 
cripples  great  characters  and  lifts  up  the  small,  in  order 
to  strengthen  the  average.  This  American  democracy  of 
ours — what  is  it  but  the  triumph  of  the  average  ?  Look 
at  the  men  we  send  into  public  life  now!  Compare  them 
to  those  we  sent  fifty  or  a  hundred  years  ago  ;  compare 
their  very  faces,  and  you  see  how  the  type  has  degener- 
ated. What  does  that  mean,  if  not  that  the  average  fool 
who  formerly  took  pride  in  being  represented  by  a  wiser 
man,  now  prefers  to  be  represented  by  as  great  a  fool  as 
himself?  The  average  American,  fifty  years  ago,  was 
poor,  and  he  paid  the  homage  of  admiration  to  greatness, 
moral  and  intellectual  ;  but  now  his  prosperity  has  turned 
his  brain  ;  he  feels  big  enough  to  kick  up  his  heels  on  his 
own  account,  and  he  dislikes  the  man  whom  he  suspects 
of  being  his  superior." 

"  I  should  be  ashamed  if  I  were  you,"  exclaimed  Aleck, 
with  youthful  ardor,  "  to  be  slandering  my  country/' 

"  That  depends  upon  what  State  we  are  talking  in,"  said 
Horace,  dryly  ;  "  as  you  know,*  slander  in  New  York  is 


8  THE  MAMMON 

actionable  only  in  case  it  is  a  lie  ;  while  in  New  Jersey  it  is 
actionable  if  it  is  of  a  derogatory  character,  whether  it  be 
true  or  false.  I  am  not  in  the  least  ashamed  of  slandering 
my  country  in  the  New  Jersey  sense." 

Aleck  listened  with  visible  impatience,  took  a  few  strokes 
with  the  oars,  then  lifted  them  again  and  looked  intently 
at  his  brother,  who  had,  in  the  meanwhile,  lighted  a  cigar 
and  faced  him. 

"  In  what  you  have  just  been  saying,"  he  began,  "you 
have  sealed  your  own  doom.  You  certainly  are  above  the 
average,  intellectually,  whatever  you  may  be  morally  ; 
and  you  have  the  ambition  to  distinguish  yourself  in  pub- 
lic life.  I  should  think  your  chances  were  poor  if  Ameri- 
cans only  chose  fools  to  represent  them." 

The  elder  brother  blew  a  couple  of  rings  of  smoke  into 
the  still  air,  and  smiled  as  only  a  strong  man  smiles.  It 
was  a  smile  full  of  amusement  and  impregnable  self-confi- 
dence. "My  dear  fellow,"  he  said;  "you  go  too  fast. 
Let  us  admit,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  I  am  no  fool. 
How  do  you  suppose  a  clever  man  would  set  about  winning 
public  favor?  By  demonstrating  his  cleverness  ?  By  in- 
advertently  letting  his  wisdom  out  of  the  bag,  and  impres- 
sing his  countrymen  with  his  intellectual  greatness?  No, 
my  dear  boy ;  if  he  did  that,  he  could  not  be  elected  a 
commissioner  of  highways,  far  less  a  member  of  Congress. 
No,  if  I  am  intellectually  superior,  I  mean  scrupulously  to 
conceal  the  fact  from  my  fellow-citizens,  unless,  indeed, 
they  choose  to  apply  a  degree  of  ingenuity  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  my  personality  far  beyond  any  with  which  I 
credit  them.  As  I  have  said,  I  mean  to  devote  my  life  to 
the  study  of  reality,  at  close  quarters,  and  to  reach  my 
conclusions  without  regard  for  rose-colored  traditions. 
By  applying  these  conclusions  to  my  conduct  I  mean  to 
rise,  and  rise  I  shall.  If  you  live  long  enough,  you  will 
verify  my  predictions." 

"  I  should  not  wish  to  succeed  at  that  price,"  Aleck  re- 
joined, seriously;  "you  think  character  is  a  barrier  to  suc- 
cess ?  " 

"  I  haven't  said  that  ;  though,  as  the  world  is  now  con- 
stituted, a  great  elevation  of  character  might  interfere 
with  success.  In  the  modern  world  tact  is  the  accepted 
substitute  for  character." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  principles  and  convictions  are 
needless  encumbrances,  and  should  be  thrown  overboard 
by  every  man  who  aspires  to  enter  public  life  ?" 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  9 

"One  thing  at  a  time,  if  you  please.  Let  us  begin  with 
convictions.  What  are  convictions  at  tiie  age  of  twenty- 
eight  ?  Untried  axioms,  accepted  on  trust,  which  exper- 
ience is  likely  to  upset.  Well,  I  admit  a  man  who  means 
to  succeed  cannot  afford  to  equip  himself  luxuriously 
with  that  kind  of  commodities.  At  forty,  a  man  may 
have  convictions  that  are,  perhaps,  worth  something.  A 
public  man  now-a-days  is  no  more  the  leader  of  public 
opinion,  but  its  follower.  He  is  not  an  embodiment  of 
knowledge  and  experience  in  public  affairs,  but  merely  a 
register  of  the  public  ignorance." 

The  younger  brother  sat  silent  for  some  minutes,  and 
gazed  dreamily  toward  the  distant  horizon.  "  Horace,"  he 
said,  at  last,  "I  am  too  fond  of  you  to  wish  to  quarrel  ; 
but  excuse  me  for  saying  that  I  believe  you  talk  for  ef- 
fect. You  experience  a  pleasant  sensation  when  you 
shock.  You  like  to  have  people  believe  you  a  deep  and 
cold-blooded  schemer.  I  fear  you  are  too  clever  for  your 
own  good — so  clever  that  you  are  in  danger  of  outwitting 
yourself." 

Horace,  so  far  from  resenting  this  uncomplimentary 
analysis,  looked  up  with  genuine  pleasure. 

"  Good  for  you,  brother,"  he  exclaimed,  heartily  ;  "  clev- 
erness evidently  runs  in  the  family.  You,  too,  are  a  good 
deal  deeper  than  I  gave  you  credit  for." 

Instead  of  answering,  Aleck  again  struck  the  water 
vehemently  with  his  oars,  and  sent  the  boat  skimming 
away  over  the  glassy  surface  of  the  lake.  His  brother  was 
a  most  unsatisfactory  disputant,  he  thought,  who  would 
try  the  patience  of  a  saint.  He  talked  not  to  convince,  or 
to  arrive  at  a  conclusion,  but  rather  as  a  feat  of  intellec- 
tual gymnastics,  and  because  he  liked  to  exhibit  his  wit. 
He  was  a  lawyer  first,  and  afterward  an  individual ;  counsel 
for  the  prosecution  or  the  defence,  as  the  case  might  be, 
even  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 


IO  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   II. 

A    SELF-MADE    MAN. 

The  Hon.  Obed  Larkin,  the  uncle  of  Horace  and  Alex- 
ander, was  the  great  man  of  Torryville,  and  felt  the  re- 
sponsibility of  his  position.  Not  only  by  his  wealth  was 
he  eminent,  but  his  philanthropy  was  proportionate  to  his 
millions.  He  had  founded  the  Larkin  University,  a  far- 
famed  co-educational  institution,  situated  on  the  beautiful 
hill  overlooking  the  town.  He  had  endowed  it  with  a  cool 
million  in  cash,  as  he  was  wont  to  say,  when  any  of  the 
professors  rebelled  against  his  authority  ;  and  he  averred 
that  he  would  never  have  had  that  amount  of  money  to 
spare,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  fact  that  he  had  never 
used  tobacco  or  whiskey  in  any  shape,  during  his  entire 
life.  He,  therefore,  had  a  strong  prejudice  against  pro- 
fessors who  smoked  ;  and  if  he  had  had  his  own  way,  would 
have  given  them  twenty-four  hours'  notice  to  quit  the 
town.  But,  as  he  reluctantly  admitted,  there  were  other 
considerations  to  be  taken  into  account  ;  and  though  he 
stoutly  maintained  that  a  man  who  smoked  would  also,  on 
occasion,  get  drunk,  and  accordingly  was  unfit  to  be  an  in- 
structor of  youth,  he  was  yet  obliged  to  tolerate  some  of 
these  objectionable  characters  in  his  seat  of  learning.  He 
could  not  forbear,  however,  to  lecture  them,  not  overbear- 
ingly, but  with  many  and  awkward  pauses,  on  the  error 
of  their  ways  ;  and  when  they  beat  him  in  argument,  as 
they  often  did,  he  did  not  blaze  up  instantly,  but  he  went 
home,  and  chewed  the  cud  of  reflection,  and  grew  angrier 
the  more  he  thought  of  the  disrespect  they  had  shown 
him. 

The  conceited  beggars,  didn't  they  owe  everything  to 
him?  Didn't  they  live  on  the  fruits  of  his  labor?  Where 
would  they  have  been,  if  he  had  not  founded  his  Univer- 
sity, and  given  them  employment  at  extravagant  wages  ? 

It  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  Hon.  Obed 
Larkin  took  this  view  of  professors  who  dissented  from  his 
opinions  on  the  whiskey  and  tobacco  question  ;  for  his 


OF  UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  II 

townsmen  had  long  nourished  his  self-esteem  by  deferring 
to  him  in  everything.  The  influx  of  students  and  instruc- 
tors had  given  a  great  impetus  to  the  growth  of  the  town, 
and  raised  the  value  of  real  estate  fully  five  hundred  per 
cent.  For  this  the  town  was  naturally  grateful.  The 
greatness  and  goodness  of  Mr.  Larkin  were,  therefore,  art- 
icles of  faith  in  Torryville.  The  fact  that  he,  who  was  rich 
enough  to  live  in  magnificence  anywhere,  chose  to  live  in 
Torryville,  showed  plainly  enough  that  Torryville  was  a 
most  desirable  place  of  residence,  and  that  investment  in 
corner  lots  was  sure  to  prove  profitable. 

As  far  as  his  outward  semblance  went,  the  Hon.  Obed 
Larkin  was  not  very  imposing.  He  was  a  tall,  lank,  raw- 
boned  man,  with  a  large  head  and  strong,  homely  features. 
He  had  the  shrewd,  self-confident  look  of  the  successful, 
self-made  man  ;  but  under  it  all  lurked  a  vague  discontent 
which  wasemphasized  by  three  deep  perpendicular  wrinkles 
in  his  forehead.  He  seemed  always  to  be  thinking  of  some- 
thing unpleasant,  always  ready  to  take  you  down  a  peg  or 
two,  and  play  ducks  and  drakes  with  your  self-esteem.  He 
stooped  somewhat  in  his  walk,  and  his  coarse  gray  chin- 
beard  then  concealed  a  part  of  his  shirt-bosom.  His  upper 
lip  was  usually  covered  with  stiff  white  stubble,  giving  the 
impression  that  he  had  been  shaved  two  or  three  days  ago. 
Two  deep  longitudinal  wrinkles,  like  boundary  lines  on  a 
map,  divided  the  region  of  the  mouth  from  that  of  the 
cheeks.  His  grayish-blue  eyes,  which  were  shaded  by 
heavy,  upward-curling  eyebrows,  expressed  shrewdness  and 
sagacity.  Sometimes  there  lurked  in  them  a  gleam  of  humor 
which  was  like  a  genial  commentary  to  a  forbidding  text. 
But  ordinarily  they  had  a  scrutinizing  look,  which  to  strang- 
ers was  often  embarrassing.  "  However  clever  you  pretend 
to  be,  I  am  going  to  find  out  just  what  you  amount  to,"  they 
seemed  to  say  ;  and  as  politeness  rarely  imposed  any  restraint 
upon  Mr.  Larkin,  it  is  not  strange  that  many  found  his 
society  less  congenial  than  it  was  prudent  to  admit.  Appli- 
cants for  positions  in  the  University  were  apt  to  go  away 
with  a  very  unfavorable  opinion  of  him.  In  the  first  place, 
the  questions  he  asked  seemed  often  (to  a  man  of  scholarly 
education)  absurd  ;  and  secondly,  the  steady  scrutiny  of 
his  eyes  seemed  directly  intended  to  embarrass.  Though 
his  manner  was  plain  and  devoid  of  pretence,  it  had  yet 
that  air  of  patronage  which  the  practical  man  in  the  United 
States  is  apt  to  assume  toward  the  scholar,  and  which  the 
successful  millionaire  assumes  toward  all  the  unsuccessful 


12  THE  MAMMON 

creation.  When  Mr.  Larkin's  gaunt,  stooping  figu re  arrayed 
in  a  rusty  dress-coat,  with  a  slight  deposit  of  dandruff  on  his 
collar,  appeared  on  the  University  campus,  professors  and 
tutors,  unless  they  had  an  axe  to  grind,  took  care  not  to 
cross  his  path.  There  was  a  number  of  anecdotes  related 
sub  rosa  and  quietly  chuckled  over,  illustrating  his  views 
concerning  educational  affairs  ;  but  these  were  only  for 
private  consumption.  If  occasionally  he  bored  a  professor 
with  his  talk  concerning  things  which  he  knew  nothing 
about,  he  was  apt  to  mistake  the  deferential  silence  with 
which  his  victim  listened  for  admiring  astonishment  and  ap- 
proval. He  had,  on  the  whole,  no  very  flattering  opinion 
of  the  practical  sense  and  judgment  of  scholars  ;  but  he 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  that  they  regarded  his  own  de- 
liverances on  educational  subjects  with  similar  disrespect. 
When  a  professor,  on  one  occasion,  urged  upon  him  the 
necessity  of  a  larger  appropriation  for  the  library,  Mr. 
Larkin  cornered  him  with  this  remark  : 

"You  want  more  books,  eh?  I'll  bet  you  a  dollar  you 
hain't  read  all  those  you've  got.  Read  those,  and  then 
we'll  talk  about  getting  more." 

And  chuckling  at  his  shrewdness,  he  strolled  off  to  but- 
tonhole an  instructor,  whom  he  took  to  task  for  having 
failed  to  pass  some  applicants  at  the  entrance  examina- 
tions. 

There  was  no  gainsaying  his  arguments,  especially 
when  he  came  along  with  the  rejected  applicants,  person- 
ally insisting  upon  their  admission.  He  had  never  been 
in  a  college  himself,  and  could  not  be  made  to  understand 
that  some  things  have  to  be  known  before  others  can  be 
taught  with  advantage.  He  was  a  self-made  man,  and  as 
Lawyer  Graves,  the  wit  of  the  town,  said,  having  made 
himself,  he  had  enough  left  over  to  make  a  brother.  The 
brother  in  question,  however,  would  not  stay  "  made." 
Ezekiel  Larkin  was  one  of  those  sanguine  men  who 
plunge  headlong  into  enterprises,  without  properly  con- 
sidering the  probabilities  for  and  against  success.  He  was 
a  cleverer  man  than  the  Hon.  Obed,  but  would  have  sunk 
into  absolute  penury  if  the  latter  had  not  taken  him  under 
his  wing.  There  was  a  story  told  which  nobody  pretended 
to  believe,  and  yet  did  not  wholly  disbelieve,  that  Obed 
owed  his  fortune  to  an  invention  made  by  Zeke.  How- 
ever that  may  have  been,  there  was  something  in  the  re- 
lation of  the  brothers  which  gave  color  to  the  suspicion. 
That  they  did  not  love  each  other  was  perhaps  not  so  very 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  13 

wonderful ;  but  that  so  shrewd  a  business  man  as  Obed 
should  consent,  again  and  again,  to  invest  in  Zeke's  enter- 
prises, which  he  must  have  known  were  foredoomed  to 
failure,  and  patiently  bear  his  elder  brother's  erratic  be- 
havior, could  only  be  explained  on  the  supposition  that 
the  latter  had  a  "  pull "  on  him.  Obed  was  not  otherwise 
noted  for  indulgent  judgments,  and  he  apparently  respect- 
ed no  idiosyncrasies  but  his  own.  He  had  risen,  by  slow 
degrees,  from  nothing,  and  he  maintained  that  that  was 
the  only  proper  way  of  reaching  eminence.  His  brother 
and  himself  had  both  commenced  life  as  stone-masons, 
and  would  perhaps  have  remained  stone-masons,  if  the 
improvement  in  bridge-building,  which  Obed  patented, 
had  not  thrown  profitable  contracts  for  public  works  in 
his  way  by  enabling  him  to  underbid  competitors.  The 
subsequent  steps  in  his  advancement  followed  naturally 
with  his  increasing  wealth  and  influence.  He  made  vast 
sums  during  the  war  in  his  legitimate  business,  besides 
being  interested  in  army  contracts  which  also  yielded  him 
handsome  profits.  At  the  close  of  the  war  he  settled  in 
Torryville,  where  he  established  a  paper  mill,  a  national 
bank,  and  in  the  course  of  time  a  flourishing  university. 
Without  any  apparent  effort,  he  absorbed  all  the  dignities 
which  his  fellow-citizens  had  to  bestow,  went  to  the  legis- 
lature, became  a  State  senator,  and  had  repeatedly  been  of- 
fered the  nomination  for  governor.  On  his  brother's  death, 
in  1867,  he  took  his  nephews  into  his  house,  made  them 
enter  his  university,  and  in  due  time  established  them  in 
what  promised  to  be  a  profitable  law  practice.  He  made 
the  firm  of  Larkin  Brothers  his  legal  representatives 
whenever,  in  his  various  enterprises,  his  interests  collided 
with  those  of  others,  and  managed  to  throw  a  great  deal 
of  business  in  their  way. 

As  regards  Mr.  Larkin's  domestic  relations,  they  were 
in  all  respects  exemplary.  There  was  but  one  drawback 
to  his  happiness  :  his  wife  had  no  children.  It  was  to 
repair  this  deficiency  that  he  had  adopted  his  brother's 
sons,  and  moreover,  a  little  girl  named  Gertrude,  whom,  in 
a  Quixotic  mood,  he  had  picked  up  in  an  asylum  or  alms- 
house,  or  some  such  institution.  That  was,  at  all  events, 
the  legend  in  its  official  version.  Miss  Gertrude  herself, 
who  was  now  seventeen  years  old  could  neither  confirm 
nor  deny  it,  as  she  was  but  three  years  old  when  she  was 
removed  by  Mr.  Larkin  from  her  original  habitat.  The 
fourteen  fat  years  of  her  life  hacl  swallowed  up  the  mem- 


14  THE  MAMMON 

ory  of  the  three  lean  ones.  And  yet,  the  obscurity  of  her 
origin  remained  a  most  potent  fact  in  fashioning  her  char- 
acter. She  knew,  or  imagined  she  knew,  that  it  was  re- 
membered against  her,  and  this  consciousness  gave  to  her 
bearing  a  certain  reserve  whicli  many  mistook  for  pride. 
She  was  tall  of  growth  and  large-limbed.  The  expression 
of  her  face  was  vague,  groping,  unawakened,  but  withal 
soft  and  maidenly.  It  was  this  sweetly  bovine  expression 
which  Homer  attributed  to  Hera  when  he  called  her  heifer- 
eyed.  Gertrude's  wide-open,  infantine  gaze  carried  out  the 
same  suggestion.  Its  virginal  shyness  alternated,  however, 
at  times,  with  the  liveliest  animation  and  enterprise.  But 
if  anyone  presumed  upon  her  sympathy  to  become  con- 
fidential, her  manner  instantly  changed  to  a  cold  and 
haughty  unresponsiveness.  Her  dark-blonde,  wavy  hair 
was  subject  to  continual  experiments  in  the  manner  of 
arrangement,  but  whatever  was  done  with  it  seemed  in- 
capable of  spoiling  the  noble  contour  of  her  head.  Tak- 
ing her  altogether,  she  was  quite  as  much  a  mystery  to 
herself  as  she  was  to  others  ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  fact  that  she  was  beautiful,  and  moreover  Mr.  Lar- 
kin's  adopted  daughter,  nobody  would  have  troubled  him- 
self to  solve  her  riddle.  As  it  was,  the  sentiment  which 
the  town  entertained  toward  her  was  anything  but  favor- 
able, and  Gertrude,  feeling  the  latent  hostility,  returned  it 
with  interest. 

"You  can't  make  out  that  girl,"  was  the  remark  most 
commonly  heard  ;  "  but  what  can  you  expect  of  a  person 
that  has  been  picked  right  out  of  the  gutter?  Mr.  Larkin's 
kindness  to  her  has  turned  her  head." 

Tea-sipping,  middle-aged  Cassandras  were  never  weary 
of  prophesying  disastrous  consequences  to  Mr.  Larkin 
from  his  generous  conduct  to  Gertrude.  If  these  prophe- 
cies, in  a  mitigated  form,  reached  Mr.  Larkin's  ear,  they 
made  no  impression  upon  him.  He  was,  by  nature,  too 
sanguine  to  believe  that  anything  in  which  he  was  con- 
cerned could  turn  out  disastrously.  Girls,  to  be  sure, 
were  queer  things,  and  you  couldn't  always  tell  what  they 
would  be  up  to.  But  he  had  observed  that  they  generally 
came  out  all  right  in  the  end.  He  had  known  lots  of  girls 
in  his  day,  and  most  of  them  had  had  a  period  when  all 
sort  of  antics  and  tomfooleries  came  sort  of  natural  to 
them;  but  for  all  that,  they  had  slipped  as  meekly  as  any 
into  the  matrimonial  harness,  and  then  they  were  of  course 
all  right.  If  Gertrude  was  a  little  hifalutin',  why,  it  didn't 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  1 5 

signify.  She  was  a  pretty  girl,  and  he  had  observed  that 
pretty  girls  were  apt  to  have  more  antics,  and  were  harder 
to  manage,  than  the  homely  ones.  But  they  were  sure  to 
come  out  all  right,  he  repeated,  confidently. 

If  Mrs.  Larkin  did  not  share  his  confidence  in  this,  as  in 
many  other  respects,  it  was  with  her  a  matter  of  tempera- 
ment rather  than  of  conviction.  Mrs.  Larkin  had  a  pro- 
pensity for  lugubrious  predictions,  and  cherished  a  sub- 
dued aversion  for  her  husband's  optimism.  She  never 
contradicted  him,  chiefly  because,  with  her  natural  indo- 
lence, she  felt  unequal  to  the  effort  of  arguing;  but  she 
sighed  her  drssent  and  expressed  it  in  mournful  glances 
and  shakings  of  her  head.  She  was  a  large,  blonde,  good- 
looking  woman  of  about  forty,  with  sad  blue  eyes  and  a 
healthy  complexion.  She  had  a  slight  stoop  in  her  shoul- 
ders and  walked  heavily,  not  so  much  on  account  of  stout- 
ness as  on  account  of  the  weight  of  woe  that  oppressed 
her.  Frequently  she  paused,  as  if  endeavoring  to  recollect 
where  she  was  going.  There  was  a  perceptible  inequality 
between  the  two  sides  of  her  face,  though  not  enough  to 
attract  immediate  attention.  On  the  left  side  there  was 
an  odd  contraction  of  the  muscles  which  drew  the  corner 
of  the  mouth  a  little  downward,  giving  to  the  face  a  chronic 
air  of  dissatisfaction.  She  could  therefore  only  smile  on 
one  side  of  her  mouth,  while  the  other  seemed  to  deprecate 
such  levity.  She  dressed  without  style  or  pretence  of 
style,  and  her  garments  hung  about  her  with  Quaker-like 
rigidity.  As  she  had  equal  difficulty  in  keeping  warm  in 
winter  and  cool  in  summer,  fretful  comments  on  the 
weather  formed  the  staple  of  her  conversation.  A  red 
worsted  shawl  was  either  drooping  from  her  shoulders  or 
depending  from  her  arm,  and,  as  malicious  critics  asserted, 
served  the  purpose  of  concealing  the  bad'fit  of  her  dresses. 

What  Mrs.  Larkin,  above  all  things,  hungered  for  was  a 
mission  ;  not  a  mere  self-imposed  task,  but  an  unmistak- 
able call  from  on  high,  such  as  came  to  the  prophets  of 
old.  She  was  in  her  way  a  religious  woman,  but  believed 
religion  to  consist  in  a  general  disapproval  of  everything 
pertaining  to  the  earth,  and  a  predilection  for  lugubrious 
conversation.  Tt  was  a  source  of  grief  with  her  that  she 
had  never  heard  God's  voice  calling  her  in  the  stillness  of 
the  night,  as  it  did  the  child  Samuel  ;  though  she  had  re- 
markable dreams,  in  which  her  pastor,  Rev.  Arthur  Rob- 
bins,  was  disposed  to  discern  divine  warnings  and  com- 
mands, she  was  a  little  bit  too  conscfentious  to  agree  with 


1 6  THE  MAMMON 

him.  Her  spurts  of  enthusiasm  for  this  or  that  cause 
which  the  church  endorsed,  were  usually  due  to  the  influ- 
ence of  Mr.  Robbins  ;  but  either  because,  as  she  was  fond 
of  asserting,  she  was  a  frail  vessel,  or  because  her  worldly 
sense  was  not  quite  so  dead  as  she  liked  to  believe,  her 
zeal  was  apt  to  flag  before  much  was  accomplished.  She 
had  had  her  Indian  craze,  during  which  she  had  gone  to 
considerable  expense  in  having  Mr.  Robbins's  tract, 
"  Science  and  the  Bible  Reconciled,"  translated  into  some- 
thing which  she  innocently  believed  to  be  "the  Indian 
language."  She  had  been  in  correspondence  with  officials 
in  Washington  and  Indian  agents,  regarding  the  expedi- 
ency of  having  this  tract  distributed  along  with  the  sup- 
plies from  the  government  agencies,  and  had  been  much 
gratified  at  the  interest  which  her  correspondents  dis- 
played in  the  project.  An  army  officer  who  was  her  hus- 
band's guest  for  a  few  days,  had,  however,  the  cruelty  to 
disillusionize  her,  and  from  that  time  forth  her  interest  in 
the  Indians  was  at  an  end.  A  project  for  the  conversion 
of  the  Catholic  converts  in  China  to  the  Evangelical  re- 
ligion, and  another  for  spreading  the  gospel  among  the 
Mohammedans,  were  equally  short-lived  and  expensive. 

The  more  remote  a  mission  was  to  Mrs.  Larkin,  the  more 
it  fascinated  her.  It  was  owing  to  this  peculiarity  of  hers, 
that  her  nephews,  Horace  and  Alexander,  with  whom  she 
came  in  daily  contact  in  her  own  house,  never  presented 
themselves  to  her  mind  as  possible  objects  of  missionary 
zeal.  Horace  had  an  imperturbable  self-confidence  which 
made  her  half  afraid  of  him,  and  his  disrespectful  laugh 
discouraged  all  interest  in  his  spiritual  welfare.  Alexander, 
on  the  other  hand,  seemed  too  incorrigibly  light-hearted, 
and  refused  to  sympathize  with  her  solicitude  for  the  fate 
of  the  heathen  m  the  hereafter.  He  treated  her  with 
humorous  affection,  made  fun  of  her  projects  in  a  good- 
natured  way,  ran  against  her  in  the  doorways,  embraced 
her  by  accident,  and  made  profuse  apologies. 

"You  only  imagine  me  to  be  an  Arab  or  a  Zulu-Kaffir, 
aunt,"  he  would  exclaim,  laughingly  ;  "  and  then  you  won't 
mind." 

She  could  not  help  liking  him,  in  spite  of  his  frivolity  ; 
but  influence  him  she  could  not.  It  was,  in  fact,  not  Mrs. 
Larkin's  forte  to  influence  anybody.  Even  Gertrude,  her 
adopted  daughter,  had  long  since  emancipated  herself  from 
her  authority.  When,  therefore,  her  husband  expressed 
his  confidence  that  Gertrude  would  turn  out  all  right,  she 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  I/ 

would  lift  her  eyes  to  heaven  and  sigh,  as  if  oppressed  with 
forebodings  of  disaster.  When  she  had  occasion  to  ad- 
dress the  girl,  she  never  looked  at  her  or  spoke  to  her  di- 
rectly, but  dropped  her  words,  as  it  were,  inadvertently  in 
corners  and  around  the  walls,  and  left  Gertrude  to  pick 
them  up  if  she  chose.  Whatever  her  daughter  said  or  did 
seemed  to  have  a  strange  power  to  shock  Mrs.  Larkin,  who 
then,  instead  of  expressing  her  disapproval,  appealed  with 
devout  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  shook  her  head  in  dismal  ap- 
prehension. It  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  Ger- 
trude felt  uncomfortable  under  this  treatment,  and  some- 
times was  guilty  of  unfilial  language.  But  when,  in  the 
spasms  of  remorse  which  followed  these  outbursts,  she 
flung  herself  on  Mrs.  Larkin's  neck  and  begged  her  for- 
giveness, the  latter's  unresponsive  manner,  her  virtuous 
disavowal  of  all  her  personal  feeling,  and  her  references 
to  heaven  as  the  only  source  of  forgiveness,  would  suddenly 
chill  the  passionate  girl  and  make  her  feel  hard  and  wicked. 
If,  with  a  vague  hope  of  consolation,  she  sought  refuge 
with  her  father,  his  well-intentioned  obtuseness  was  scarce- 
ly easier  to  bear.  He  was  so  irritatingly  confident  that 
everything  would  come  out  all  right,  that  nobody  meant 
any  harm,  that  all  resentment  and  sorrow  were  mere  mis- 
takes, and  as  such  easily  corrected.  He  had  always  oc- 
cupied this  neutral  ground  between  her  and  her  mother  ; 
he  had  refrained  from  committing  himself  to  any  definite 
judgment,  and  was  therefore  equally  unsatisfactory  to 
both. 


1 8  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   III. 
FOUNDER'S  DAY. 

It  was  the  trustees  of  the  University  who  had  put  down 
Mr.  Larkin's  birthday  as  a  holiday  on  the  calendar,  under 
the  name  of  Founder's  Day.  Larkin'  Day  the  students 
called  it,  and  celebrated  it  in  the  spirit  of  their  own  inter- 
pretation. The  opportunities  for  "  larkin'  "  were,  however, 
limited  in  Torryville,  and  in  the  dearth  of  amusement  the 
young  men  had  recourse  to  all  sorts  of  desperate  inven- 
tions. They  contrived  by  superhuman  efforts  to  get  one  of 
the  founder's  cows  up  into  the  bell-tower  of  the  chapel, 
and  there  proceeded  to  paint  it  green.  They  put  a  fine 
collection  of  live  mice  into  the  desk  of  one  of  the  professors, 
who  was  very  near-sighted  and  nervous,  and  they  dyed  with 
blue  ink  the  marble  bust  of  a  certain  opulent,  but  unpop- 
ular, college  officer  which  adorned  the  library.  Sometimes 
they  descended  upon  the  neighboring  villages  and  played 
all  sorts  of  rude  pranks  upon  the  citizens ;  and  occasionally 
a  party  of  them  would  visit  credulous  farmers,  to  whom  they 
would  introduce  one  of  their  number  as  the  son  of  Gen- 
eral Grant  or  some  other  celebrity,  and  be  entertained  ac- 
cordingly. 

The  principal  ceremony  of  the  day  was,  however,  the 
founder's  Reception,  which  took  place  in  a  large  forlorn, 
jail-like  dormitory,  called  the  Barracks.  Here  students 
of  both  sexes  gathered  in  a  great  dreary,  imperfectly 
lighted  hall,  with  bare  plastered  walls,  and  dingy  white- 
painted  woodwork.  In  the  middle  of  the  floor  stood  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Larkin,  and  shook  hands  with  a  multitude  of 
people,  the  former  with  his  head  on  one  side  and  mildly 
jocose,  the  latter  stiff  and  awkward,  with  her  elbow  against 
her  side,  and  holding  out  one  limp  hand  which  made  no 
response  to  any  pressure.  Her  one-sided  smile,  with 
which  she  greeted  those  of  her  visitors  whom  she  knew, 
looked  sadder  than  ever  ;  and  her  feeble  and  tentative 
remarks,  which  for  lack  of  confidence  in  their  propriety, 
she  rarely  finished,  made  one  realize,  as  he  went  away, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS,  1Q 

that  life  was  a  melancholy  affair.  Young  men  with  crude 
but  earnest  faces,  and  in  all  varieties  of  costume,  walked 
up,  some  with  a  stoop  and  some  with  a  swagger,  to  ex- 
change some  awkward  remarks  with  the  man  who  regarded 
himself  as  their  benefactor;  and  their  features  showed  the 
relief  they  felt  when  the  ordeal  was  well  over.  A  few 
of  them,  braving  the  prejudice  which  yet  existed  against 
co-education,  had  female  students,  in  prim  or  helplessly 
aspiring  toilets,  loosely  attached  to  their  arms,  as  if  they 
feared  contact ;  while  others,  glorying  in  their  prejudice, 
came  striding  along  with  village  beauties  who  clung  to 
them  with  delightful  confidence. 

A  dozen  Brazilians,  with  dark  and  indolent  faces,  formed 
a  group  near  the  door,  from  which  the  most  adventurous 
among  them  made  excursions  in  the  direction  of  the 
prettiest  girls,  and  again  returned  to  render  an  account 
of  their  exploits,  which  were  then  discussed  with  southern 
gestures  and  animation.  Two  small,  yellow-faced  Japan- 
ese, with  bristling  black  hair  and  bead-like  eyes,  had  been 
cornered  by  some  resolute  female  students,  and  were  being 
subjected  to  a  rigid  cross-examination  concerning  the 

fovernment  and  social  customs  of  their  native   land.     A 
ervian,   two   Russians,  and  a  Bulgarian   completed  the 
collection  of  alien   tribes,   as  far  as  the  undergraduates 
were  concerned. 

There  were  professors,  however,  whose  wives  represented 
several  nationalities  and  strikingly  varying  types.  There 
were  men  who  looked  as  if  they  came  directly  from  the 
plough,  and  expected  to  return  to  it,  with  wives  whom 
toil  and  child-bearing  had  made  prematurely  old  ;  and 
there  were  recent  graduates  of  Harvard  and  Columbia,  in 
correct  evening  attire,  and  with  an  ease  of  manner  which 
became  slightly  ironical  when  they  conversed  with  their 
rustic  colleagues.  There  was  the  stout,  squatty,  and  mel- 
ancholy Professor  Dowd,  who  for  some  inscrutable  reason 
had  wooed  a  sprightly  little  Viennese  lady,  and  for  some 
equally  inscrutable  reason,  had  won  not  only  her  hand,  but 
her  affection.  She  was  so  dainty  and/<?///^,  and  looked,  as 
she  came  tripping  along  through  the  crowd,  like  the  very 
incarnation  of  delightful  frivolity — as  a  wasp-waisted  pink 
shepherdess  a  la  Watteau  would  have  looked  in  the  meet- 
ing-house of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers. 

"Ach!  I  am  so  glat  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Larrkin,"  she 
exclaimed,  with  an  inimitable  foreign  accent  and  vivacious 
gestures.  "  You  are  well,  yes  1  Ah,  yes,  I  see  you  are 


2O  THE  MAMMON' 

well.  You  look  so  fine  and  radiant.  And  your  husbant, 
he  is  well — how  you  must  be  proud  of  him  on  a  day  like 
this,  dear  Mrs.  Larrkin — to  see  all  he  has  accomplished — 
to  have  brought  the  plessing  of  knowledge  into  so  many 
young  lives.  He  looks  so  proud  and  commanding — like 
a  sheneral  on  a  field  of  pattle." 

Mrs.  Dowd  went  on  with  unblushing  mendacity  pour- 
ing forth  her  compliments,  until  something  in  Mrs.  Lar- 
kins's  wondering  eyes  showed  her  that  she  was  throwing 
her  pearls  before  swine.  Then  suddenly,  with  an  impa- 
tient shrug  of  her  shoulders,  she  pinched  her  husband,  who 
in  the  meanwhile  had  been  conversing  with  the  founder, 
and  whispering  with  suppressed  wrath  :  "Ah,  mon  Dieuy 
qu'ellc  est  bete"  dragged  him  reluctantly  away.  They  were 
followed  by  Professor  and  Mrs.  Wharton,  whom  the  founder 
greeted  with  handshakes  that  tingled  in  their  toes.  Pro- 
fessor Wharton  gave  instruction  in  some  practical  branch 
of  study,  not  usually  embraced  in  a  university  course, 
which  Mr.  Larkin  had  especially  at  heart.  He  was  a  man 
with  a  shrewd,  homely,  coarse-featured  face,  coarse  brown 
hair,  and  rims  of  dried  tobacco  juice  on  his  lips.  His 
wife,  who  was  tall,  lean,  and  flat-chested,  with  remnants  of 
faded  comeliness,  looked  as  if,  on  proper  provocation,  she 
could  scratch  your  eyes  out. 

"  Well,  Professor,"  Mr.  Larkin  began,  as  he  released  Mrs. 
Wharton's  hand,  "  it  looks  rather  different  on  this  hill-top 
from  what  it  did  ten  years  ago,  when  you  first  came  here." 

"  It  dooes,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Wharton,  with  the  emphasis 
of  conviction. 

"  You  wouldn't  know  it  was  the  same  place,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  believe  you  on  your  oath,  if  you  were  to  tell 
me  it  was  the  same  place,  if  I  hadn't  been  here  myself  and 
seen  everything  change  from  day  to  day." 

Mr.  Larkin  chuckled  delightedly.  That  was  the  kind  of 
talk  he  liked  to  hear. 

"It  does  seem  wonderful,  Mr.  Wharton,  don't  it?"  he 
went  on,  loath  to  drop  the  congenial  topic. 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  Mr.  Wharton  said  once  more,  look- 
ing as  if  the  thing  just  struck  him  in  a  new  and  surpris- 
ing light. 

"You  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  your  work,  Mr.  Lar- 
kin," remarked  Mrs.  Wharton,  in  a  shrill,  grating  voice. 

"  Not  proud,  but  gratified,  Mrs.  Wharton, "answered  the 
host ;  "  a  man  can't  do  more  than  his  best,  you  know, 
and  God's  blessing  must  do  the  rest." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  21 

"A  true  word  is  that,  Mr.  Larkin.  But  it  ain't  every- 
one of  us  that  God  gives  the  chance  and  the  will  to  do 
such  great  things  in  his  service." 

Mr.  Larkin  was  about  to  reply,  when  he  observed  at 
his  elbow  the  Rev.  Arthur  Robbins,  with  one  daughter 
clinging  to  his  arm,  and  four  more  following  close  behind 
in  his  wake.  They  were  all,  with  one  exception,  plain,  and 
were  attired  in  brown  dresses  with  an  innocent  pink  bow 
at  the  throat.  There  was  something  in  the  looks  and 
small,  abrupt  motions  of  the  four  undistinguished  ones, 
which  reminded  one  of  mice  or  squirrels.  Their  small 
heads,  their  shy,  dark,  and  alert-looking  eyes  and  receding 
chins,  emphasized  the  resemblance.  Only  Arabella,  the 
youngest,  for  whom  Mr.  Robbins  was  just  endeavoring  to 
secure  a  share  of  Mr.  Larkin's  attention,  had  her  father's 
features,  though  in  a  somewhat  cheapened  and  weakened 
edition.  For  Mr.  Robbins  was  a  fine-looking  gentleman, 
with  gray,  well-trimmed  mutton-chop  whiskers,  dark,  in- 
telligent eyes,  and  an  air  of  well-bred  worldliness,  which 
made  him  a  trifle  conspicuous  in  Torryville,  where  the 
clerical  profession  was  expected  to  conform  to  quite  a  dif- 
ferent type.  His  youngest  daughter  had  the  same  fine 
eyes  and  the  same  warm  pallor,  but  there  was  something 
feverish  and  uneasy  in  her  expression  ;  and  her  manner 
alternated  between  a  weary  languor  and  an  almost  hys- 
terical vivacity.  There  was  an  anxious  sweetness  in  her 
smile  as  she  caught  sight  of  Horace  Larkin,  who  was 
standing  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  submitting  to  a 
cross-examination  by  one  of  the  co-educational  ladies,  in 
regard  to  his  opinion  of  Alexander  Hamilton  and  that 
statesman's  influence  in  moulding  the  destinies  of  the  re- 
public. As  the  young  man  suspected,  she  had  chosen 
this  as  the  subject  of  her  commencement  thesis,  and  was 
talking  with  a  strictly  practical  purpose.  Miss  Robbins's 
anxious  smile  aiforded  Horace  an  opportunity,  which  he 
was  not  slow  to  seize,  of  breaking  off  this  conversation, 
and  from  the  asperities  of  barren  learning  to  plunge  into 
the  soft  embrace  of  caressing  compliments.  He  did  not 
entirely  approve  of  Miss  Robbins's  die-away  airs  and  ex- 
aggerated behavior,  as  he  had  been  known  to  remark  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  but  for  all  that  her  evident  ap- 
proval of  him  did  much  to  modify  his  opinion.  She 
listened  to  his  most  trivial  remarks  with  devout  attention, 
and  was  disposed  to  find  even  a  profounder  meaning  in 
his  comments  upon  men  and  things  than  he  had  himself 


22  THE  MAMMOtf 

divined.  A  man  has  to  be  preternaturally  pachyderma- 
tous to  be  proof  against  such  insidious  flattery. 

"  It  is  an  age  and  a  half  since  we  have  seen  you,  Mr. 
Larkin,"  said  Miss  Robbins,  as  she  pressed  the  young 
man's  hand  with  effusive  cordiality.  "  Is  it  co-education 
or  the  law  which  has  been  absorbing  you  ? " 

"It  is  both,  Miss  Robbins,"  replied  Horace,  with  that 
air  of  brusque  candor  which  was  habitual  with  him. 
Whatever  he  was  charged  with  he  always  admitted  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  and  it  was  therefore  impossible  to  tease 
him. 

"So  you  really  approve  of  co-education?"  Arabella 
went  on,  with  a  caressing  cadence  in  her  voice  which  seemed 
to  implore  confidence  and  friendship. 

"  I  approve  of  everything  that  it  is  for  my  advantage  to 
approve  of." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  approve  of  me  ? " 

The  remark  was  made  in  the  spirit  of  daring  banter, 
but  there  was  a  sudden  adventurous  light  in  the  girl's 
eyes  which  was  like  the  glare  from  a  furnace  door  that  is 
for  an  instant  ajar. 

"Naturally,  because  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  for  my 
advantage,"  he  replied,  smiling  ;  "  because  it  might  be 
even  dangerous." 

"  I  scarcely  know  how  to  interpret  that,"  she  replied, 
with  a  nervous  little  laugh  ;  "but  I  have  an  impression 
that  it  is  not  exactly  polite." 

"  Politeness  is  nothing  but  judicious  mendacity,"  he  re- 
marked, sententiously. 

"Well,  women  are  so  accustomed  to  being  treated  with 
judicious  mendacity,  as  you  call  it,  that  you  can't  blame 
them  if  they  have  come  to  expect  it  as  a  sort  of  right." 

"  I  will  lie  to  you  to  your  heart's  content,  if  you  desire 
it,"  he  retorted,  giving  a  twist  to  his  mustache,  under 
which  his  ironical  smile  was  lurking. 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Larkin,"  she  ejaculated,  as  if  re- 
solved to  emulate  his  bewildering  tactics  ;  "  I  sometimes 
have  a  suspicion  that  you  are  a  desperate  flirt  ? " 

"  Has  that  never  occurred  to  you  before  ?  " 

"  No,  I  confess  it  hasn't." 

"Then  put  it  down  in  your  note-book  for  future  refer- 
ence." 

A  perceptible  ripple  of  excitement  passed  through  the 
assembly,  as  Alexander  Larkin  entered  with  his  tall  cousin 
on  his  arm. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2 3 

"  How  lovely  Gertrude  looks ! "  exclaimed  Arabella 
Robbins  ;  "  she  looks  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba  !" 

"  Permit  me  to  question  that,"  her  interlocutor  replied. 
"  The  queen  was,  no  doubt,  a  trifle  more  de'colletee" 

"I  am  not  up  in  the  fashions  of  those  ancient  times,  of 
course,  but  I  merely  mean  she  looks  queenly.  And  your 
brother — he  looks  like  Aladdin  in  the  fairy  tale." 

"  That  is  rather  a  better  comparison,  apart  from  the 
costume  ;  for  my  brother,  I  regret  to  say,  passes  most  of 
his  time  in  a  fairy  tale." 

"You  mean  to  say  he  is  in  love." 

"  Oh,  no !  nothing  as  bad  as  that.  I  merely  mean  to 
say  that  he  looks  at  life  through  rose-colored  spectacles. 
And  like  Aladdin,  he  has  a  child-like  confidence  in  the 
wonderful  lamp  which  he  carries  hidden  under  his  coat." 

Alexander,  tall,  blond,  and  radiant,  was  advancing 
through  the  crowd,  making  his  frank  and  fearless  gaze 
wander  around  the  room,  as  if  in  search  of  somebody.  In 
striking  contrast  to  the  youthful  animation  of  his  features, 
was  the  listless  apathy  of  Gertrude's  face. 

"  Do  liven  up  a  little,  Gertie,"  he  said,  with  an  impatient 
shake  of  her  arm  ;  "  you  look  cross." 

"When  I  am  cross,  why  should  I  not  look  it  ?" 

"  Is  it  I  who  have  displeased  you  ?" 

"  No  more  than  anybody  else." 

"  Who,  then,  is  it  ? " 

"  Everybody." 

"  That  is  amazing  for  a  girl  of  your  age  to  be  dissatis- 
fied with  everybody." 

"  It  is  more  amazing  for  a  man  of  your  age  to  be  satis- 
fied with  everybody." 

"  Perhaps.     But  I  was  made  that  way." 

"So  was  I — made  my  way." 

"That's  very  unfortunate." 

"  Perhaps,  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

Alexander's  wondering  glance  had  by  this  time  lighted 
upon  a  dark-haired  young  man,  who,  by  some  kind  of 
nervous  sympathy,  turned  about  as  if  someone  had 
touched  him. 

As  their  eyes  met,  the  dark-haired  man  advanced  rapidly 
and  made  a  ceremonious  bow  to  Gertrude.  He  had  a 
grave,  refined  face,  of  the  Edwin  Booth  type,  full  of  ner- 
vous mobility  and  melancholy  resignation.  One  lock  of 
his  black  hair  hung  with  an  appearance  of  studied  negli- 
gence down  on  his  forehead,  and,  a  pair  of  hazel  eyes 


24  THE  MAMMON 

strayed  with  a  look  of  weary  hauteur  over  the  variegated 
company.  There  was  an  air  a  la  Hamlet  in  the  way  he 
carried  his  head  ;  and  only  doublet  and  hose  were  needed, 
instead  of  a  neatly-fitting  dress  suit,  to  complete  the  re- 
semblance. 

"  Well,  Archie,"  exclaimed  Alexander,  as  he  eagerly 
shook  his  friend's  hand,  "  you  concluded  to  come,  after 
all  ? " 

Dr.  Hawk — for  that  was  the  friend's  name — ran  his  fin- 
gers through  his  curly  hair,  and  fixed  a  dreamily  adoring 
glance  upon  Gertrude  before  he  answered. 

"  We  are  weary,  my  heart  and  I,"  he  quoted,  rather  ir- 
relevantly. 

"You  mean  you  are  bored,"  said  Gertrude  ;  "  a  sympa- 
thetic soul  at  last !  " 

The  Doctor  bowed  again  in  acknowledgment  of  the  com- 
pliment. "What  a  pity,  Miss  Gertrude,  that  you  and  I 
were  not  born  before  the  world  had  yet  grown  old,"  he 
sighed,  translating  his  adoration  in  another  ardent  glance. 

"Yes,  before  the  world  had  yet  been  made,"  the  girl 
sighed,  in  mock  imitation  of  his  sentimental  tones. 

"  You  are  cruel,  indeed,"  he  said,  with  an  offended  air. 

"  Pardon  me,  Doctor,  but  you  know  that  is  a  forbidden 
topic." 

He  turned  half  about,  gazed  sulkily  at  the  walls  and  the 
ceiling  and  finally,  recovering  his  equanimity,  faced  her 
once  more. 

"  Humanity,  in  my  opinion,  demands  too  little  of  life," 
he  said.  "  It  is  satisfied  with  the  mere  questionable 
privilege  of  existing.  As  Schlegel  says,  '  Living  for  the 
mere  sake  of  living  is  the  source  of  all  vulgarity.'  As 
for  me,  if  I  have  not  the  delusion  of  a  pursuit  that  ap- 
pears in  some  way  worthy,  I  regard  breathing  as  a  pure 
waste  of  energy.  I  would  just  as  leave  give  my  air-pump- 
ing apparatus  a  rest — forever." 

Gertrude  had  listened  with  a  slowly  kindling  animation 
to  this  discourse  ;  the  pleasure  she  felt  shone  out  of  her 
eyes.  Every  word  seemed  as  if  spoken  out  of  her  own 
heart. 

"But  what  would  you  have  us  do,  Doctor?"  she  said. 
"What  is  the  good  of  rebelling  against  what  you  can't 
help  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  which  we  can't  help,"  he  replied,  trans- 
fixing her  again  with  his  direct  gaze  ;  "or  I  should  say, 
there  is  nothing  which  you  can't  help,  Miss  Gertrude." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2$ 

"  If,  for  instance,  Gertie  has  a  stupid  partner,"  Alexan- 
der remarked,  "can  she  take  him  by  the  ear  and  command 
him  to  be  interesting?" 

"  No  ;  but  let  her  take  him  by  the  heart,  and  he  couldn't 
help  being  interesting." 

"  I  should  find  him  more  intolerable  than  ever,  Doctor," 
ejaculated  Gertrude,  laughing. 

"  You  mean  that  Gertie  should  go  about  making  people 
fall  in  love  with  her,"  said  her  cousin, "  so  as  to  give  them 
an  object  worth  living  for  ?  But  wouldn't  that  in  the  end 
make  a  considerable  muddle  in  the  town,  when  they  should 
all  come  and  claim  her?" 

"They  should  not  claim  her,"  cried  Hawk,  with  sudden 
warmth  ;  "  the  privilege  of  being  in  love  with  her  would 
be  its  own  reward." 

"  With  all  due  respect  for  Gertie,  I  doubt  if  you  will 
find  many  who  will  take  that  view." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  them,"  said  the  Doctor. 

It  was  his  habit  to  pay  audacious  compliments  of  this 
sort  with  a  solemn  face,  and  in  a  sad,  melodious  voice 
which  had  a  curiously  penetrating  resonance.  Gertrude 
had  to  make  a  physical  effort  to  shake  off  the  spell  which 
he  threw  over  her.  She  liked  him,  because  she  found  him 
entertaining,  but  she  had  a  vague  distrust  of  him,  and  felt 
the  need  of  being  on  her  guard. 

"  Do  let  us  invent  something  to  prevent  these  people 
from  boring  each  other  to  death,"  she  said,  with  sudden 
revival  of  energy.  "  I  feel  a  kind  of  responsibility  for 
them.  I  would  like  to  take  them  by  the  shoulders  and 
shake  them." 

"  That  is  not  a  bad  idea,"  said  Alexander,  "  only  you 
have  got  to  do  it  to  music.  Otherwise  they  might  not  like 
it  ;  or  rather,  you  must  let  them  shake  you." 

"  You  mean  we  ought  to  dance." 

"Yes,  why  not  ?" 

"  Isn't  that  rather  undignified  at  a  founder's  recep- 
tion ?" 

"  Not  half  so  undignified  as  standing  around  in  a  chilly 
room,  uttering  dreary   platitudes  about  the  weather  and 
the  progress  of  the  University." 
"Then  will  you  speak  to  father?" 
"  We'll  both  speak  to  him." 

Mr.  Larkin,  who  prided  himself  on  his  liberality,  was 
never  disinclined  to  entertain  any  proposition.  He  was 
at  first  rather  dubious  as  to  the  propriety  of  dancing  on 


26  THE  MAMMON 

the  present  occasion,  but  when  he  found  that  his  wife  ob- 
jected to  it  on  religious  grounds,  he  veered  around  and 
maintained  that  there  was  nothing  he  liked  so  much  as  to 
see  the  young  people  amuse  themselves. 

"What  do  you  say,  parson  ?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Mr. 
Robbins,  who  was  explaining  to  Mrs.  Larkin  how  recent 
geological  discoveries  had  confirmed  the  biblical  story  of 
the  creation. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  said  the  clergyman,  jocosely,  "  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  your  conscience,  you  know  ;  I  am  only 
the  keeper  of  Mrs.  Larkin's." 

"  Well,  she  is  my  conscience.  I  have  no  other.  She  kinder 
supports  one  for  the  benefit  of  the  family." 

"Then  you  ought  to  refer  the  question  to  her." 

'No,  I  have  observed  her  conscience  is  out  of  repair  ; 
kinder  worn  out  by  too  much  use." 

The  permission  being  given,  a  hysterical  piano  with 
some  kind  of  internal  disorder  was  procured  from  a  stu- 
dent's room  across  the  hall,  and  a  young  man  who  played 
the  violin  emphasized  the  waltz  measure  by  hoarse  and  un- 
melodious  scrapes 'on  his  strings.  The  Presbyterian  and 
the  Baptist  ministers  took  their  departure  very  pointedly 
(though  not  on  musical  grounds)  when  the  noise  began, 
and  expressed  to  Mrs.  Larkin  their  regret  that  her  husband 
should  countenance  such  sinful  amusement  ;  but  the  foun- 
der, for  whose  ears  the  regret  was  intended,  laughed  a 
shrewd,  contented  laugh  at  his  ability  to  "  rile  the  parsons." 

The  music  persevered  for  ten  minutes  in  producing 
scraping  and  rumbling  noises  in  three-quarter  measure, 
before  anyone  ventured  to  swing  out  upon  the  floor.  Then 
Aleck  and  Gertrude,  for  philanthropic  reasons,  resolved  to 
take  the  initiative  ;  and  a  dozen  couples  immediately  fol- 
lowed in  their  wake.  Soon  the  upper  half  of  the  hall  was 
filled  with  dancers  whose  heads  bobbed  up  and  down  with 
small  regard  for  the  music.  There  were  many  who  danced 
well,  but  a  far  greater  number  who  did  not  know  whether 
they  could  dance  or  not, "but  thought  they  would  like  to  try. 
There  were  young  girls,  with  nice  innocent  faces  in  which 
there  was  no  guile,  laboring  conscientiously  to  keep  their 
feet  in  rhythmic  motion  ;  and  young  men  who,  with  one 
arm  loosely  encircling  their  partners' waist,  jerked  solemnly 
about  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  their  boots.  There  was 
young  Professor  Ramsdale,  of  Harvard  antecedents,  who 
held  the  girls  tightly  clasped  and  conversed  leisurely  with 
them,  while  he  gyrated  about  with  reckless  ease,  "revers- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2 7 

ing  "  every  moment,  and  winding  his  way  skilfully  among 
the  thronging  couples  without  ever  risking  a  collision.  The 
frivolous-minded  among  the  seniors  hated  him,  when  they 
saw  him  waltzing,  and  would  have  found  some  way  of 
avenging  themselves,  if  his  popularity  with  the  serious- 
minded  had  not  shielded  him  from  molestation.  Among 
the  female  students  there  were  many  who  reviled  him  in 
unmeasured  terms,  but  none  who  had  the  heart  to  refuse, 
when  he  asked  them  to  dance.  Handsome  he  was  not, 
though  tall  and  athletic,  and  his  conversation,  as  a  rule, 
was  jerky  and  fragmentary.  His  blond- hair  was  cut  very 
short,  and  a  mustache  of  indefinite  color  curled  over  a 
strong,  sensuous  mouth.  His  blue,  serious  eyes,  the  white 
of  which  was  veined  with  yellow,  protruded  from  their 
sockets,  and  with  their  stiff  and  solemn  stare  reminded  you 
of  fish-eyes.  Whether  he  joked  or  was  in  earnest,  no  one 
could  guess  by  the  look  of  his  countenance  ;  which,  if  it 
was  the  mirror  of  his  soul,  was  certainly  a  very  imperfect 
one.  In  spite  of  this  disadvantage,  he  made  the  impression 
of  being  a  sturdy  and  trustworthy  personality  ;  whatever 
he  said  (perhaps  because  he  said  so  very  little)  was  well 
received,  and  seemed  to  admit  of  no  dissent.  He  was 
known  in  the  town  as  a  persistent  adorer  of  Gertrude 
Larkin,  and  it  was  told  of  him  that,  when  .someone  accused 
him  of  having  proposed  to  her  seven  times,  he  answered 
that  he  would  persevere  even  unto  seventy  times  seven. 
But  that  sounded  so  unlike  him  that  his  friends  refused  to 
credit  it.  That  Gertrude,  for  some  reason,  objected  to  him 
was  generally  believed,  though  it  was  hinted  that  her  objec- 
tions could  scarcely  be  serious,  since  she  continued,  after 
having  refused  him,  to  accept  his  attentions. 

From  the  moment  Gertrude  entered  the  reception-hall 
with  her  cousin,  she  had  felt  the  eyes  of  her  indefatigable 
admirer  upon  her.  While  she  danced  with  Aleck,  they 
followed  her  with  their  calm,  expressionless  gaze. 

"  Do  get  that  Ramsdale  to  look  at  somebody  else,  Aleck," 
she  said  ;  "  I  assure  you  he  is  burning  a  hole  in  the  back  of 
my  head." 

"  Who  else  is  there  here  worth  looking  at  ?  "  asked  Aleck, 
in  the  spirit  of  gallantry. 

"Oh,  Aleck  !     That  from  you  !     It  is  too  much." 

"  Not  at  all.  Don't  mention  it.  Or  rather  put  it  down 
to  my  credit,  as  a  fund  to  draw  against  when  my  mood 
changes." 

11  Why  doesn't  he  stare  at  Bella  Robbins  ?" 


28  THE  MAMMON 

"  That  would  be  a  thankless  task.  She  has  eyes  for  no 
one  but  Horace." 

"  But  for  him  she  has  a  great  deal." 

"Of  eyes?" 

"Yes." 

They  danced  aiong  with  leisurely  swings  and  caprices 
for  some  minutes. 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  a  mixed  up  world  this  is  !  "  sighed  the 
girl  ;  "why  can't  everybody  let  everybody  else  alone  ?  " 

"  If  he  did,  the  world  would  fall  into  a  million  pieces." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  Civilization  would  come  to  an  end." 

"  Better  still.  I  have  always  felt  in  myself  a  taste  for 
savagery." 

"  Man  is  a  gregarious  animal." 

"  I  am  not  a  gregarious  animal." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  are  ;  you  are  only  a  trifle  fastidious  in 
your  gregariousness." 

She  raised  her  large,  dark-blue  eyes  slowly  to  her 
cousin's  face,  and  he  looked  smilingly  into  them,  and  saw 
the  little  flame-like  lines  in  the  iris  radiating  from  the 
pupils,  and  little  cloudy  dots  in  the  blue  which  made  it 
look  doubly  blue. 

"Aren't  you  just  a  little  bit  unendurable,  Aleck  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  ominous  gentleness. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  a  little  bit — anything  you  like.  But 
you  look  so  love'ly  to-night,  Gertie,  that  you  can  afford  to 
be  magnanimous." 

The  music  came  to  a  stop  in  the  middle  of  a  bar,  by  the 
breaking  of  the  violinist's  fourth  string  ;  but  several 
couples  still  hopped  about  in  a  dispirited  way,  until  they 
became  aware  that  they  were  having  the  floor  to  them- 
selves. Then  they  ceased  half-wonderingly,  and  walked 
apart,  with  no  pretence  of  ceremony.  Doctor  Hawk  and 
Professor  Ramsdale  both  hastened  from  opposite  sides  of 
the  hall  toward  Gertrude  ;  but  the  athletic  Professor,  in  his 
blind  zeal,  knocked  down  a  freshman,  to  whom  he  stopped 
to  apologize.  Thereby  the  Doctor  gained  an  advantage, 
and  Gertrude  gained  another.  For  she  preferred,  on  the 
whole,  the  Doctor's  society  to  that  of  the  Professor.  The 
latter,  finding  that  he  had  lost  the  race,  stared  with  his 
calm  fish-eyes  at  his  rival's  back,  which  was  turned  toward 
him  with  defiant  bravado  ;  then  without  trace  of  ill-will  or 
discomfiture,  walked  off  and  consoled  himself  with  a  little 
co-educational  damsel,  who  received  his  attention  with  un- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  29 

disguised  gratitude.  The  music  presently  started  up  again, 
minus  the  violin,  and  the  measure  of  her  bliss  was  full, 
when  he  asked  her  to  dance. 

"Do  tell  me,  Professor,"  she  said,  as  he  put  his  arm 
about  her  waist  and  swung  her  out  upon  the  floor,  "  what 
is  the  substance  of  Schopenhauer's  Ethics  ?  Do  you  re- 
gard Hartmann  as  a  fair  expounder  of  Schopenhauer  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Ramsdale,  stolidly  ;  but  he  refused  to 
commit  himself  further.  He  was  asking  himself  bitterly, 
if  life  was  worth  living.  His  fortunate  rival  was  appar- 
ently troubled  with  the  same  query. 

"Life,  life,  life!"  he  exclaimed,  dramatically,  when 
Alexander  had  betaken  himself  off.  He  made  a  point  of 
never  saying  what  was  expected  of  him,  and  to  Gertrude, 
who  seemed  to  herself  to  be  daily  smothered  in  common- 
places, it  was  this  element  of  surprise  in  his  speech  which 
made  him  attractive.  He  was  one  of  the  few  men  she 
knew  who  did  not  bore  her. 

"  Have  you  been  jilted,  Doctor,  or  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 
she  asked,  laughing. 

Hawk  contracted  his  brows  with  displeasure. 

"  I  could  well  imagine  a  woman  refusing  me,  Miss  Ger- 
trude," he  said,  deep  down  in  his  melodious  bass,  "but 
jilt  me,  never." 

"  Why  the  one  any  more  than  the  other  ?" 

"  The  measure  of  a  woman  is  the  man  she  loves — the 
man  she  is  capable  of  loving.  The  woman  capable  of 
loving  me  would  for  that  very  reason  be  incapable  of  jilt- 
ing me." 

"That  is  a  neatly  turned  compliment  to  yourself." 

"  I  should  say  it  was  a  neatly  turned  compliment  to 
you." 

The  audacity  of  his  repartee  prevented  her  for  a  moment 
from  fully  comprehending  it.  As  its  meaning  dawned 
upon  her,  however,  an  indignant  blush  mounted  to  her 
cheeks,  and  the  animation  in  her  eyes  was  suddenly 
quenched,  leaving  a  chilly  vacuity.  The  Doctor  perceived 
that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  but  instead  of  blaming  him- 
self for  it,  he  blamed  Gertrude.  For  a  moment  he  fairly 
hated  her.  Ramsdale,  whose  watchful  stare  had  never 
been  averted,  perceived  that  now  was  his  opportunity. 
With  imperturbable  seriousness,  he  took  leave  of  his  co- 
educational damsel  and  presented  himself  at  Gertrude's 
elbow"  at  the  very  moment  when  she  was  wishing  for  a 
convenient  escape.  She  seized  his^irm  almost  with  alac- 


30  THE  MAMMON 

rity,  and  responded  with  freezing  hauteur  to  the  Doctor's 
mock-ceremonious  salutation.  The  Professor  was  fairly 
aglow  with  pleasure  and  pride.  He  bore  his  charge  away 
in  triumph,  while  the  floor  seemed  to  undulate  under  his 
feet.  His  face,  however,  betrayed  no  trace  of  agitation. 

"  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  dancing  the  next  waltz 
with  you,  Miss  Larkin?"  he  inquired,  in  tones  of  the 
solemnest  prose. 

"You  may,  Mr.  Ramsdale." 

"Thank  you." 

The  orchestra,  which  in  the  meanwhile  had  been  en- 
riched with  a  piccolo  flute,  struck  up  the  desired  waltz, 
and  he  lost  no  time  in  placing  his  arm  firmly  about  Ger- 
trude's waist  and  sailing  out  upon  the  unoccupied  floor. 
Here  he  was  in  his  element.  He  danced  as  naturally  as  a 
fish  swims,  and  almost  as  gracefully.  It  was  a  luxury,  after 
the  exhausting  conversation  of  Dr.  Hawk,  to  rest  in  the 
clasp  of  an  athletic  arm  and  be  guided  passively  on  and 
around  and  about  in  all  sorts  of  surprising  turns  and 
swings,  and  feel'no  responsibility  and  no  need  of  effort, 
but  a  mere  instinctive  surrender  to  the  rhythm  of  the 
music.  It  was  with  regret  that  she  heard  her  partner's 
voice,  in  which  there  was  a  thick,  "grouty"  tone,  uttering 
something  which,  though  it  was  far  from  abstruse,  she 
failed  to  comprehend. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  new  'varsity  crew  ?"  the  Professor 
repeated. 

"No." 

"They  row  in  very  good  form." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Heavy  men,  all  of  them.  I  believe  in  heavy  men, 
don't  you  ?" 

"  Believe  in  heavy  men  ?  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  have 
known  some  slender  men,  too,  whom  I  have  liked  very 
well." 

"I  mean  in  a  boat." 

"In  a  boat  ?  Oh,  yes.  But  a  man  whom  I  like  on  dry 
land  I  am  also  apt  to  like  in  a  boat." 

The  fact  was  she  had  scarcely  listened,  and  answered  at 
random.  She  was  rehearsing  in  her  thoughts  Dr.  Hawk's 
insolent  remarks,  and  was  wondering  what  he  really  could 
have  meant  by  them.  If  he  was  in  love  with  her,  that  was 
certainly  not  the  way  to  tell  her  of  it.  If  it  was  mere  van- 
ity on  his  part — or  a  constitutional  inability  to  refrain 
from  uttering*  whatever  came  into  his  head — then  he  de- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS,  31 

served  to  be  punished,  and  punished  he  should  be.  How 
she  was  to  punish  him  she  could  not  decide,  but  she  had 
time  enough  to  think  of  that  before  they  met  again. 

"The  coxswain  weighs  only  ninety-four  pounds,"  Rams- 
dale  observed,  as  he  suddenly  changed  his  step  from  a  slow 
gliding  motion  to  a  quick  three-quarter  measure. 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  answered,  absently,  "  how  remarkable  !  " 
"  Oh,  no,  it  isn't  very   remarkable  ;  he   is   only  sixteen 
years  old." 

"  He  must  be  very  large  for  his  age,"  she  said,  in  order 
to  say  something. 

"Why,  no,  he  is  very  small  for  his  age,"  her  imperturb- 
able partner  replied. 

"  I  thought  you  said  the  crew  were  all  heavy  men." 
"  So  I  did  ;  but  the  coxswain  isn't  the  crew." 
She   had  to   laugh   in  spite   of  her   vexation,   and  he, 
though  not  comprehending  why  she  was  amused,  joined 
her  with  a  good-natured  grunt.     He  admired  her  so  ab- 
jectly that  he  did  instinctively  whatever  he  believed  would 
please  her.     He  cudgelled  his  brain  for  some  time  to  find 
another  topic  of  conversation,  and   hit   finally  upon   one 
which  seemed  appropriate. 

"Don't  you  think  the  scenery  about  Torryville  is  beau- 
tiful?" he  inquired,  feeling  sure  that  here,  at  last,  was  a 
bond  of  sympathy. 

"No,"  she  answered,  wilfully  ;  "I  think  it  is  hideous." 
"  The  waterfalls  and  the  ravines  seem  to  me  quite  hand- 
some," he  continued,  not  in  the  least  disconcerted. 
"They  seem  to  me  frightfully  wearisome." 
"You  mean  to  climb?" 
"  No,  to  look  at — and  talk  about." 
"  I  see  you  are  not  fond  of  nature." 
"  I  am  not  fond  of  anything — or  anybody." 
"  Isn't  that  rather  an  uncomfortable  state  to  be  in  ? " 
"  No,  I  thank  you  ;  it  is  a  very  comfortable  state — the 
only  comfortable  state." 

A  slow  wonder  began  to  stir  in  the  interior  of  Mr.  Rams- 
dale's  brain,  but  it  did  not  affect  his  immobile  features. 
He  had  but  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the  fair  sex,  and 
felt  incompetent  to  interpret  its  moods.  He  thought  of 
Virgil's  famous  mutabile  et  varium,  etc.  ;  and  it  occurred  to 
him  that  Dido,  very  likely,  had  cut  up  in  this  style  with 
JEneas.  There  were  plenty  of  historic  examples  to  ac- 
count for  it,  and  all  classical  writers  agreed  in  the  opinion 
that  it  was  not  to  be  taken  seriously.  But  for  all  that, 


32  THE  MAMMON 

such  rash  and  inconsequent  speech  could  never  lose  its 
power  to  inflict  pain  and  discomfort.  Nevertheless,  Ger- 
trude in  a  disagreeable  mood  was  better  than  no  Gertrude 
at  all,  and  Ramsdale  held  her  doggedly  in  his  firm  semi- 
embrace  as  long  as  the  music  continued  to  supply  an  ex- 
cuse for  such  felicity.  When  that  excuse  ceased,  he  of- 
fered her  his  arm  and  conducted  her  to  a  long  table  of 
unpainted  boards,  upon  which  were  piled  up  coffee  cups, 
plates,  and  pyramids  of  sandwiches.  It  was  all  of  a  coarse 
and  substantial  kind.  From  one  end  of  the  table  some- 
thing was  served  which  was  euphemistically  called  ice- 
cream, but  tasted  like  frozen  corn-starch  or  custard.  Here 
they  ran  against  Horace  and  Miss  Robbins  who,  with  her 
pathetic  smile,  was  listening  to  his  authoritative  discourse. 
They  were  talking  of  Miss  Kate  Van  Schaak,  a  young  lady 
from  New  York,  whom  Bella  had  recently  been  visiting. 

"  You  would  be  sure  to  fall  in  love  with  her,  Mr.  Lar- 
kin,"  she  was  saying,  in  her  languidly  caressing  tone. 
She  had  frequently  before  exhorted  him  to  fall  in  love 
with  this  or  that  girl,  whom  she  suspected  him  of  liking, 
merely  for  the  comfort  of  hearing  his  blunt  refusals. 

"Kate  is  such  a  charming  girl,"  she  continued  ;  "she  is 
a  perfect  angel." 

"  Then  she  wouldn't  do  for  me,"  Horace  replied,  with 
gratifying  decision. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Angels,  as  a  rule,  have  no  money." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken.  Kate  is  a  rich  angel.  She 
has  a  great  deal  of  money.  But  you  surely  don't  intend  to 
marry  for  money,  Mr.  Larkin?" 

"  Not  exactly.  I  intend  to  marry  first  health,  then 
wealth,  and  thirdly  a  good  temper  !  " 

Bella's  heart  sank  within  her  ;  she  was  conspicuous 
neither  for  health  nor  wealth  ;  nay,  was  rather  lacking  in 
both.  She  hoped,  however,  that  her  good  temper  might 
suffice  to  compensate  for  her  deficiencies. 

"  Then  you  do  not  intend  to  marry  for  love  ? "  she  said, 
looking  up  into  his  face  with  her  imploring  smile. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  briefly. 

"  But  that  is  a  terrible  declaration,  Mr.  Larkin." 

"  I  don't  see  why  it  is  terrible.  If  I  have  a  healthy  and 
good-tempered  wife,  who,  moreover,  has  a  material  claim 
upon  my  gratitude,  I  shall  be  sure  to  love  her." 

."  But  would  she  be  sure  to  love  you  ?  " 

M  \  shall  demand  very  little  of  her  in  that  direction.     To 


OF    UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  33 

be  frank,  Miss  Bella,  I  think  all  this  talk  about  love  is  nine- 
tenths  twaddle.  We  talk  of  love  as  if  it  were  a  tremendous, 
overwhelming,  inexorable  power  in  our  lives  which  we 
have  got  blindly  to  submit  to.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
does  such  a  passion  invade  the  lives  of  many  modern  men 
and  women  in  the  United  States?  In  the  Middle  Ages, 
when  men  were  more  passionate  and  less  rational — more 
barbaric,  in  other  words — I  know  that  love  and  hate,  and 
avarice,  and  all  the  savage,  animal  instincts  were  the 
tremendous  forces  they  have  been  represented  to  be.  At 
the  present  time,  too,  we  have  savages  of  this  kind, 
incapable  of  restraining  their  natures  ;  but  most  of  them 
are  in  jail,  and  those  who  are  not,  ought  to  be." 

"  People  who  are  capable  of  loving  passionately  ought 
to  be  in  jail!  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  horrified. 

"Yes,  if  you  like,"  Horace  replied,  delighting  in  the 
paradox. 

"  And  you  would  like  to  be  their  jailer?" 

"If  I  had  nothing  better  to  do,  I  might  ;  but  for  the 
moment  I  find  the  law  business  more  profitable." 

"  Mr.  Larkin,  I  don't  believe  you  mean  what  you  are 
saying,"  she  exclaimed,  pathetically.  "  You  said  yourself 
a  while  ago,  that  you  intended  to  love  your  wife  after 
marriage." 

Horace  twisted  his  mustache  for  a  moment,  and  looked 
at  the  earnest  and  somewhat  agitated  face  of  the  girl  with 
his  quizzical  smile.  It  amused  him  to  see  what  a  power  he 
had  over  her,  and  how  completely  he  could  sway  her  by 
his  words  ;  calling  up  any  emotion  he  might  desire.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  conscious  of  a  little  twinge  of 
conscience  and  a  sort  of  supercilious  kindness  for  her 
helplessness.  That  she  was  in  love  with  him  he  had  long 
known  ;  but  while  formerly  this  unrequited  devotion  had 
appeared  half  ridiculous,  it  now  suddenly  became  a 
meritorious  thing  and  a  claim  to  consideration.  He  had 
shocked  her  enough  for  one  evening  ;  he  could  now  afford 
to  humor  her  sentimentality,  as  far  as  his  dignity  permitted. 

"The  fact  is,  Miss  Bella,"  he  began  leisurely,  tossing  the 
charm  of  his  watch-chain  up  and  down  on  his  index- 
finger,  "  love,  before  marriage,  has  a  hard  struggle  for 
existence,  through  a  long  engagement  with  its  lovers' 
quarrels,  experimental  flirtations,  and  other  fatalities. 
You  know  yourself " 

"  Indeed  I  do  not,  Mr.  Larkin,"  she  interrupted,  eagerly. 

"I    mean    by   observation,    not   from    experience,"    he 


34  THE  MAMMON 

rejoined,  with  laughing  eyes.  "You  know  how  often  it 
dies  prematurely,  and  its  little  corpse  is,  after  marriage, 
decked  out  pathetically  into  a  semblance  of  life.  Husband 
and  wife  walk  on  tiptoe,  as  if  afraid  to  disturb  it,  though 
they  both  know  that  the  trump  of  doom  could  not  rouse  it 
into  life.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  love  is  born  after  marriage, 
it  is  such  a  delicate  little  thing  and  so  much  depends  upon 
its  survival,  that  no  sane  person  would  expose  it  to  the 
rough  and  haphazard  treatment  which  it  often  has  to  suffer 
at  the  hands*  of  ignorant  lovers.  By  such  tender  care, 
applied  during  its  infancy,  love  has  a  much  better 
chance  of  survival,  and  soon  grows  stro'ng  enough  to  take 
care  of  itself." 

The  young  man  sipped  his  coffee  leisurely  out  of  a  thick 
cup  of  white  crockery,  and  made  two  or  three  sandwiches 
disappear  under  his  moustache,  while  he  delivered  this 
fanciful  discourse  on  the  nature  of  love.  He  looked  solid, 
reliable,  and  aggressively  masculine,  as  he  stood  there  in 
his  closely-buttoned  frock-coat  (he  had  a  stubborn  pre- 
judice against  the  swallow-tail),  and  uttered  sententious 
phrases  which  obviously  delighted  himself  as  much  as  they 
did  his  listener.  He  stood  with  his  legs  somewhat  apart, 
and  occasionally,  while  speaking,  balanced  himself  upon 
his  toes.  The  four  fingers  of  his  hands,  when  they  were  not 
occupied,  were  usually  in  his  trousers'  pockets,  while  the 
thumbs  moved  slowly  up  and  down  on  the  border  of  his 
waistcoat,  keeping  pace  with  the  labor  of  his  brain,  as  a 
pendulum  does  with  that  of  a  clock. 

Miss  Robbins,  who  watched  him  with  the  same  devotion 
when  he  ate  as  when  he  talked,  did  not  attempt  to  conceal 
the  pleasure  she  felt  at  having  him  make  concessions  to 
her  sentiments. 

"  Then  you  do  believe  in  love?"  she  exclaimed,  joyfully, 
arresting  a  teaspoon  with  ice-cream  on  its  way  to  her 
dainty  mouth. 

Horace  put  his  coffee  cup  on  the  table,  brushed  some 
crumbs  from  his  coat  with  his  napkin,  and  having  relieved 
Miss  Robbins  of  her  saucer,  offered  her  his  arm. 

"You  do  believe  in  love,  don't  you?"  she  repeated, 
coaxingly. 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  answered,  gazing 
at  her  with  an  amused  expression.  "  I  am  afraid  we  shall 
have  to  begin  all  over  again." 

It  was  but  a  little  after  ten  when  the  guests  began  to 
take  their  leave,  and  both  host  and  hostess  indicated  by 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  35 

half-suppressed  yawns  that  they  had  no  objection  to  their 
departure. 

"I  do  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant  evening,"  or  "  I 
hope  you  have  enjoyed  yourself,"  they  said  to  each  one  as 
he  came  up  to  shake  hands ;  and  the  reply  was,  "  Yes,  I 
thank  you  very  much,"  or  "  I  have  had  a  perfectly  lovely 
time,"  according  as  the  departing  guest  was  of  the  male 
or  the  female  gender.  While  a  few  vivacious  couples  were 
still  lingering,  a  rough-looking  functionary  in  shirt-sleeves 
came  in  and  began  to  remove  the  table  and  put  out  one 
gas-jet  after  another.  So  far  from  being  offended,  they 
took  it  in  good  part,  and  joked  familiarly  with  him  on  his 
lack  of  hospitality. 

Outside  the  air  was  chill  and  raw,  and  the  moon,  whose 
face  was  entangled  in  misty  cobwebs,  was  vainly  trying  to 
unveil.  A  white  mist  hovered  over  the  surface  of  the  lake, 
and  drifted  in  shreds  up  the  hill-sides.  But  out  of  the 
mist  came  the  gay  voices  of  young  people  ;  shrill  little 
laughs,  petulant  cries,  and  hysterical  shrieks,  which  held 
the  same  proportion  to  their  provocation  as  a  hen's  cackle, 
with  all  the  sympathetic  commotion  of  the  poultry-yard, 
does  to  one  little  innocent  egg.  It  was  regarded  as  perfectly 
proper  in  Torryville  for  young  men  to  escort  the  young 
girls  home  from  parties,  and  to  linger  as  long  on  the  way 
as  they  saw  fit.  The  chaperon  was  an  unknown  character, 
and  parents  felt  like  awkward  intruders,  if  by  chance  they 
dropped  in  upon  their  daughter  when  she  was  "having 
company."  It  did  not  occur  either  to  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Larkin, 
as  they  drove  down  the  hill-side  in  a  high  buggy  (which 
was  a  monument  of  discomfort)  to  inquire  about  Gertrude, 
or  to  trouble  themselves  about  how  or  when  she  reached 
home.  They  knew  that  young  men  were  apt  to  be  more 
entertaining  to  a  girl  of  her  age  than  her  parents,  and  they 
saw  no  impropriety  in  having  her  consult  her  preferences. 
The  gainer  by  this  arrangement  was  Professor  Ramsdale, 
who  in  a  state  of  tranquil  bliss  marched  down  the  steep 
slope,  holding  Gertrude's  arm  as  tightly  as  formerly  he 
had  held  her  waist.  He  made  some  spasmodic  efforts  to 
be  poetical,  hoping  thereby  to  induce  her  to  talk.  He 
related  soberly  how  on  one  occasion,  when  he  was  in  col- 
lege, he  had  felt  a  strong  impulse  to  write  a  poem  to  the 
moon,  but  after  two  hours'  labor  had  got  no  further  than 
the  first  line.  She  then  naturally  inquired  what  the  first 
line  was,  to  which  he  replied :  "  Oh,  moon  !  "  but  could 
get  no  further. 


36  THE  MAMMON* 

This  seemed  so  irresistibly  funny  that  she  began  to  laugh, 
and  she  continued  to  laugh  nearly  all  the  way,  until  they 
reached  the  streets  of  the  village.  Ramsdale  was  so  elated 
at  her  appreciation  of  his  unintentional  humor,  that  he 
seized  the  opportunity  to  mention  something  that  he  had 
long  had  at  heart. 

"  Do  you  suppose  you  have  the  courage  to  share  a 
scholar's  quiet  and  uneventful  life,  Miss  Gertrude?"  he 
asked,  with  an  eloquence  which  bore  marks  of  preparation. 

"That  would  largely  depend  upon  who  the  scholar 
was,"  said  Gertrude,  maliciously. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  which 
discouraged  him,  but  after  a  reflective  pause  he  again 
began : 

"  Suppose  it  was  one  who  loved  you  ?" 

"Oh,  that  wouldn't  make  so  much  difference,"  she  an- 
swered, recklessly;  "  the  question  would  rather  be  whether 
I  loved  him." 

"Well,  suppose  you  did?" 

"  That  is  a  very  daring  thing  to  suppose,  Mr.  Ramsdale. 
It  is  one  of  the  things  which  in  the  Latin  grammar  they 
would  have  put  in  the  imperfect  subjunctive." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because  it  is  contrary  to  fact." 

The  bantering  tone  in  which  she  spoke  seemed  yet  to 
leave  a  little  hope  that  she  might  not  be  in  earnest.  And 
determined  to  have  the  subject  finally  disposed  of,  he 
took  courage,  after  another  pause,  to  remark  : 

"  A  vine-embowered  cottage  in  a  quiet  university  town 
would  not  satisfy  your  ambition,  Miss  Gertrude,  would  it  ?" 

"  That  would  all  depend  upon  who  lived  in  it." 

"Suppose  I  lived  in  it?" 

"Then  I  don't  see  what  it  has  to  do  with  my  ambition." 

"  I  mean,  of  course,  in  case  we  were  married." 

"  Ah,  there  you  are  again  in  the  imperfect  subjunctive," 
she  ejaculated,  laughing;  "but  to  be  serious,  Mr.  Ranio- 
dale,  you  are  so  good  a  man  that  you  deserve  a  wife  who 
will  love  you  in  the  present  indicative.  I  cannot." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  37 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   SCHOLAR   IN   POLITICS. 

The  town  of  Torryville  was  originally  built  on  low, 
swampy  land,  where  a  couple  of  ^mall  streams  flow  into 
the  lake.  The  first  settlers,  as  well  as  their  descen- 
dants, were  soundly  shaken  for  this  piece  of  folly  ;  for 
the  ague  came  and  made  its  home  among  them,  though  it 
was  regarded  as  high  treason  to  recognize  its  existence. 
It  had  been  known  to  exist  in  the  neighboring  county,  but 
in  Torryville  not  a  case  had  ever  occurred  that  was  not 
imported  from  elsewhere.  This  belief  did  not  prevent 
those  who  had  real  estate  in  the  town  from  selling  at  a 
sacrifice,  and  rebuilding  their  homes  up  along  the  eastern 
hill-side,  which  had  a  natural  drainage  and  was  free  from 
malarial  influences.  It  looked  from  a  distance  as  if  the 
whole  town,  in  the  effort  to  escape  from  the  disadvantages 
of  its  original  position,  was  climbing  "  the  hill ; "  and  stately 
houses  of  wood,  brick,  and  sandstone,  surrounded  by  pretty 
garden-patches,  dotted  the  green  eastern  slope,  on  the 
crest  of  which  lay  the  great  piles  of  masonry  which  collec- 
tively constituted  the  Larkin  University.  Half-way  down 
the  slope,  a  little  to  the  north  of  the  inhabited  portion,  the 
white  obelisks  and  broken  symbolical  columns  of  the 
cemetery  gleamed  among  the  foliage  of  elms  and  chest- 
nuts and  maples.  Although  medical  experts  had  proved 
again  and  again  that  the  dead,  in  their  picturesque  resting- 
place,  were  engaged  in  slaying  their  descendants — that,  in 
other  words,  the  cemetery  poisoned  the  wells  of  the  town 
— it  took  twenty  years  of  agitation  before  a  reservoir  was 
built  and  the  water  saved  from  contamination.  And  even 
then,  it  would  not  have  been  done,  if  Mr.  Larkin  had  not, 
for  the  welfare  of  his  University,  championed  the  cause, 
and  demonstrated  with  irrefutable  figures  that  it  was  a 
paying  investment.  The  clerical  argument  (which  had 
hitherto  had  most  weight)  that  the  building  of  a  reservoir 
would  imply  distrust  of  Divine  Providence,  then  gradu- 
ally disappeared  and  was  heard  of  no  more.  The  same 


38  THE  MAMMON 

fate  befell  the  ghastly  joke  which  originated  in  student 
circles,  that  the  Torryvilleans  were  cannibals,  because  they 
drank  their  ancestors. 

One  evening  in  October  of  the  year  in  which  our  nar- 
rative opens,  a  crowd  of  citizens  of  all  degrees  was  gath- 
ered in  the  Main  Street,  outside  of  a  great  barn-like  build- 
ing which  looked  like  an  exaggerated  cigar-box,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  name  of  "  Tappan's  Opera  House."  The 
street,  which  was  lined  at  irregular  intervals  with  hitching- 
posts  for  farmers'  horses,  had  the  ragged  and  shabby  look 
of  the  main  business  street  in  most  country  towns.  Tall  an- 
gular brick  buildings  devoid  of  style  loomed  up  between 
one-story  wooden  shanties,  exhibiting  big  glaring  signs,  with 
the  names  of  job  printers,  book-sellers,  hardware  dealers, 
dentists,  and  saddlers.  Whether  you  loolced  up  or  down,  the 
irregular  line  of  the  roofs  resembled  that  of  a  broken-toothed 
comb.  The  middle  of  the  street  was  muddy,  and  full  of  holes, 
showing  here  and  there  remnants  of  a  pavement ;  but  the 
stone  sidewalks  were  dry  and  would  have  been  comfort- 
able for  walking,  if  they  had  not  been  encumbered  with 
empty  boxes  and  barrels,  which  in  fair  weather  served  as 
seats  for  that  part  of  the  male  population  which  was  so- 
cially inclined.  To-night  they  were  occupied  by  boys  who 
in  the  dearth  of  other  amusement  hooted,  yelled,  blew  fish- 
horns,  and  cheered  or  groaned  as  the  prominent  citizens 
of  the  village  filed  into  Tappan's  Hall.  For  there  was 
going  to  be  a  Republican  primary  for  the  nomination  of 
delegates  for  the  county  convention.  The  little  clique  of 
six  men  who  "  ran  "  the  politics  of  the  town  had  suffered 
a  defeat  at  the  last  election,  and  had  therefore  found  it  ad- 
visable, in  the  words  of  the  Torryville  Herald,  "  to  rally 
the  business  interests,  the  virtue  and  the  intelligence  of 
the  community  about  the  grand  old  banner."  They  had 
therefore  issued  a  ringing  appeal,  full  of  warlike  similes, 
to  the  Republican  voters  of  the  county,  and  invited  their 
active  participation  in  the  primaries  and  nominating  con- 
ventions of  the  party.  Even  the  quiet  professors  on  the 
Hill,  who  rarely  voted  in  off-years,  unless  a  candidate  sent  a 
buggy  to  bring  them  to  the  polls,  were  summoned  "  to 
save  the  county  from  the  ruin  and  disgrace  of  a  Democratic 
victory  ;  "  and  as  there  had  recently  been  a  good  deal  of  dis- 
cussion in  the  press  as  to  the  political  duty  of  scholars,  most 
of  them  braved  the  jeers  of  the  hilarious  boys  on  the  dry- 
goods  boxes,  and  entered  the  hall  where  the  destinies  of 
the  republic  were  to  be  decided. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  39 

"Shoot  that  hat!"  someone  yelled,  as  Professor  Dovvd 
came  in  sight,  wearing  an  unseasonable  white  hat  ;  and  a 
tremendous  chorus  of  hooting,  whistling,  shrieking,  and 
Indian  war-whoops  followed. 

"  Hooray  for  old  Grant  ! "  a  small  boy  shouted  irrelev- 
antly, and  the  same  ear-splitting  chorus  again  rent  the 
air. 

When  Mr.  Larkin  appeared,  accompanied  by  his  two 
nephews,  the  crowd  went  wild  with  enthusiasm  ;  but 
through  the  noise  all  sorts  of  disrespectful  remarks  might 
be  heard. 

"How  are  you,  old  chap?"  "Pull  down  your  vest!" 
"  Give  us  a  chaw  of  tobaccer,  will  yer  ?"  were  some  of  the 
observations  which  greeted  the  old  gentleman's  ears,  as  he 
elbowed  his  way  to  the  door  of  the  hall.  He  nodded  smil- 
ing to  the  boys  over  his  shoulder,  feeling  no  resentment, 
but  rather  pride,  at  their  affectionate  familiarity. 

The  political  wire-pullers,  who  were  present  in  force,  re- 
ceived him  with  effusive  cordiality.  Horace  and  Aleck 
were  likewise  heartily  welcomed,  but  declined  to  take  seats 
among  the  party  managers.  One  of  the  latter,  an  alert 
little  red-whiskered  man,  named  Mr.  Dallas,  called  the 
primary  to  order,  and  made  a  speech  about  the  poor  ne- 
groes in  the  South,  who  were  slaughtered  like  cattle  if 
they  ventured  to  exercise  their  political  rights.  The 
Democrats,  he  said,  were  traitors  and  copperheads,  and  it 
was  an  outrage  for  the  people  of  this  county  to  have  al- 
lowed them  to  elect  their  candidates  last  November.  He 
spoke  throughout  as  if  the  Democrats  were  not  citi- 
zens, but  a  "hostile,  invading  force,  which  plotted  de- 
struction and  the  overthrow  of  the  liberties  of  the  land. 
In  order  to  prevent  further  mischief  in  the  South  and 
elsewhere,  it  was  necessary  to  elect  only  Republicans  to 
office  in  Talbot  County.  He  felt  confident  that  in  pre- 
senting the  following  names  to  the  primary  he  was  giving 
voice  to  the  feelings  of  every  voter  to  whom  the  princi- 
ples of  the  grand  old  Republican  "pairty"  were  sacred 
and  precious.  He  then  read  the  list  of  the  delegates,  ac- 
companying each  name  with  an  eloquent  eulogy  ;  and,  as 
the  evening  was  already  far  advanced,  and  he  was  confi- 
dent of  the  unanimity  of  sentiment  wThich  prevailed  in 
the  meeting,  he  felt  justified  in  asking  the  nomination  of 
the  five  gentlemen  he  had  named  by  acclamation,  and 
that  they  be  left  unpledged  as  to  their  votes  in  the  con- 
vention. 


4O  THE  MAMMON 

A  generous  round  of  applause  rewarded  Mr.  Dallas's 
eloquence,  although  he  spoke  through  his  nose  and  oc- 
casionally got  into  conflict  with  the  English  grammar.  He 
was  followed  by  a  bilious-looking  tanner,  named  Graves, 
who  spoke  in  the  same  strain,  only  more  excitedly.  It 
appeared  that  the  very  destiny  of  the  nation  was  at  stake, 
and  that  unless  the  candidates  proposed  to  the  primary 
were  elected,  he — Mr.  Graves — would  not  like  to  be  an- 
swerable for  the  consequences.  He  hinted  at  the  direst 
calamities  —  business  disturbance,  national  bankruptcy, 
the  re-enslavement  of  the  negroes,  general  anarchy  and 
ruin.  As  he  took  his  seat  with  a  perspiring  countenance, 
flushed  with  noble  excitement,  a  few  cat-calls  were  heard, 
but  these  were  immediately  drowned  in  a  burst  of  ap- 
plause, which  showed  that  the  temper  of  the  assembly  was 
patriotic  rather  than  critical.  A  few  there  were,  however, 
who  failed  to  be  carried  away  by  the  general  enthusiasm. 

"  What  impudence  ! "  whispered  Horace  Larkin  to  his 
brother.  "  That  fellow  Dallas  and  his  gang,  after  having 
conferred  with  Senator  Harkness,  meet  in  his  back  office, 
and  make  up  a  slate,  consisting  without  exception  of  po- 
litical bummers.  Then  they  try  to  make  sensible  people 
believe  that  the  country  will  go  to  the  dogs,  unless  they 
are  elected." 

"  But  why  don't  you  say  that,  Horace  ?  You  would  be 
doing  a  good  thing  if  you  could  open  people's  eyes." 

"  Say  it  ?  What's  the  good  of  saying  it  ?  If  people  are 
such  fools  as  to  believe  such  buncombe,  I  am  not  the  one 
to  undeceive  them.  Moreover,  those  fellows  have  the  po- 
litical machinery  in  their  hands,  and  I  don't  care  to  make 
them  my  enemies." 

"  I  didn't  think  you  were  such  a  coward,  Horace,"  said 
his  brother,  reproachfully. 

"  Coward  !  No,  I  am  not  a  coward  ;  but  neither  am  I 
a  fool." 

"  You  mean  to  say  that  you  may  yourself  some  day  want 
a  nomination  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  some  day  I  may." 

"  And  you  would  consent  to  run  on  the  same  ticket  with 
such  a  disreputable  shyster  as  that  fellow,  Burton,  whom 
they  are  going  to  put  up  for  circuit  judge  in  the  place  of 
a  learned  and  honorable  man  like  Judge  Wolf  ?" 

"  What  does  the  rest  of  the  ticket  concern  me  ?  I  don't 
assume  responsibility  for  anybody's  morals  but  my  own." 

The  brothers  were  yet  talking  when   they    heard   the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  41 

chairman  put  the  motion  to  nominate  the  ticket  by  accla- 
mation. There  was  no  question  but  that  it  would  have 
been  overwhelmingly  carried,  when  suddenly,  to  every- 
body's surprise,  Alexander  Larkin  jumped  up  and  ad- 
dressed the  chair. 

"I  cannot  but  think,  Mr.  Chairman,"  he  began,  "that, 
whether  intentionally  or  not,  you  have  on  the  present  oc- 
casion shown  small  respect  for  the  intelligence  of  the  Re- 
publican party,  which  you  have  just,  in  such  eloquent 
words,  exalted.  You  have  invited  here  the  best  citizens 
of  our  town,  under  the  pretence  of  wishing  to  consult  with 
them  as  to  who  ought  to  represent  them  in  the  legislature 
and  conduct  their  public  business  during  the  ensuing  year  ; 
and  when  the  citizens  accept  your  invitation,  you  first  treat 
them  to  a  tirade  concerning  the  condition  of  the  negro  in 
the  South,  as  a  preparation  to  springing  upon  them  a 
ready-made  slate,  which  you  and  a  few  of  your  friends 
have  agreed  upon  in  your  back  office." 

The  consternation  of  the  gentlemen  on  the  platform,  at 
this  unexpected  attack,  was  almost  ridiculous  to  behold. 
They  at  first  scarcely  knew  what  to  make  of  it  ;  but  when 
loud  cheering  for  a  moment  interrupted  the  daring  orator, 
Mr.  Dallas,  white  with  excitement,  stepped  forward  and 
called  out  : 

"  The  gentleman  is  out  of  order." 

It  was  astonishing  with  what  quickness  the  temper  of 
the  meeting  had  changed  ;  the  unheard-of  boldness  of  the 
young  man  had  won  its  sympathy  and  admiration.  A  de- 
risive shout  greeted  the  chairman's  declaration. 

"May  I  inquire,"  asked  Aleck,  much  emboldened  by 
the  cheering,  "in  accordance  with  what  rule  of  Gush- 
ing or  any  other  recognized  manual  of  parliamentary  pro- 
ceedings I  am  out  of  order?" 

"You  have  made  no  motion,"  cried  Dallas. 

"  But  I  supposed  your  motion  was  debatable  ;  indeed,  I 
should  judge  it  was  very  much  so." 

"  I  rule  you  out  of  order,  sir,"  shouted  the  chairman, 
quickly  changing  his  tactics,  "because  you  are  not  talking 
on  my  motion  ;  your  remarks  are  personal  and  irrelevant." 

"  Then  I  offer  this  amendment  to  your  motion,"  Aleck  re- 
torted promptly,  "  that  the  delegates  be  elected  by  ballot, 
not  by  acclamation.  This  amendment  naturally  takes 
precedence  of  your  motion,  and  I  presume  you  will  not  rule 
me  out  of  order  if  I  proceed  to  give  my  reasons  for  offering 
it." 


42  THE  MAMMON 

Mr.  Dallas  was  at  his  wits'  end.  He  stood  staring  with  a 
look  of  astonishment  and  disgust  upon  the  applauding 
multitude.  He  had  to  head  this  incipient  reformer  off,  at 
all  risks,  or  the  spirit  of  rebellion  would  spread,  and  the 
occupation  of  himself  and  his  comrades  would  be  irretriev- 
ably gone.  While  he  was  cudgelling  his  brain  to  invent  an 
expedient,  one  of  his  colleagues,  Mr.  Watson,  stepped 
forward  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear  ;  whereat  his 
troubled  countenance  brightened.  Mr.  Watson  then  de- 
scended into  the  audience,  and  was  seen  no  more.  But 
suddenly,  from  the  part  of  the  hall  which  he  was  visiting, 
a  man  jumped  up  and  moved  an  adjournment. 

"  It  appears,"  said  he,  "  that  this  primary  has  been 
packed  by  the  Democrats,  and  I  move,  sir,  an  adjournment, 
subject  to  the  call  of  the  chair." 

That  was  a  bold  move,  but  a  little  too  bare-faced  to 
succeed.  Three  men  jumped  up  from  different  parts  of 
the  hall,  and  excitedly  demanded  the  floor. 

"  The  gentlemen  are  out  of  order,"  Mr.  Dallas  again  de- 
clared ;  "  a  motion  to  adjourn  is  not  debatable.  It  has  been 
moved  and  seconded  that  this  meeting  adjourn,  subject  to 
the  call  of  the  chair.  Those  in  favor  of  the  motion  will 
signify  it  by  saying  'aye.'" 

A  dozen  spiritless  '  ayes  '  popped  up  irregularly,  here 
and  there,  like  frogs  out  of  a  pond. 

"Those  opposed " 

The  "  nays  "  came  with  a  volume  and  a  determination 
which  made  the  result  unmistakable.  The  overwhelming 
decision  made  Mr.  Dallas  afraid  of  resorting  to  his  last 
expedient,  viz.,  to  declare  that  "  the  ayes  have  it,"  and  be- 
fore anyone  could  raise  a  question,  leave  the  platform  and 
the  hall.  There  was  always  the  danger  of  alienating  the 
party  and  being  defeated  at  the  polls,  instead  of  conciliating 
it  and  winning  a  victory.  In  pure  despair  and  to  gain  time, 
he  declared  that  "the  chair  was  in  doubt  ;"  but  that  was 
an  awkward  move,  and  it  was  greeted  with  derisive  shouts 
of  laughter. 

There  still  remained  one  possible  remedy.  Mr.  Dallas 
gave  the  chair  to  the  bilious-looking  tanner,  and  after  a 
whispered  conversation  with  Mr.  Larkin,  descended  from 
the  platform  and  walked  up  to  where  Aleck  and  Horace 
were  sitting.  He  shook  hands  with  both  the  brothers,  as 
if  they  were  his  dearest  friends,  quite  forgetting  that  he  had 
already  greeted  them  on  their  entrance.  After  a  smiling 
inquiry  regarding  their  health,  he  asked  Aleck  if  he  would 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  43 

not  have  the  kindness  to  accompany  him  to  the  committee 
room,  behind  the  stage.  Aleck,  though  he  had  no  desire 
for  a  private  interview,  arose  and  was  amazed  to  sec  Mr. 
Dallas  put  his  arm  through  his  and  begin  to  talk  to  him 
with  a  sort  of  laughing  cordiality  which  seemed  to  imply 
that  they  understood  each  other  perfectly.  It  began  to 
dawn  upon  him  that,  perhaps,  the  wily  politician  meant 
to  discredit  him,  by  raising  at  least -a  doubt  in  the  minds 
of  the  assembly  as  to  whether  he  was  not  himself  in  the 
ring,  and  had  made  this  little  row  at  the  instigation  of  the 
very  men  whom  he  was  pretending  to  antagonize.  The 
thought  drove  the  blood  to  his  face  and  made  him  pause 
for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  the  committee  room,  which 
Mr.  Dallas  had  opened  before  him.  He  knew  that  he 
could  not  match  himself  in  cunning  with  this  accomplished 
trickster,  and  felt,  as  he  was  about  to  enter  his  den,  an  un- 
easy expectation  that  in  the  end  he  would  manage  to  out- 
wit him. 

As  soon  as  they  were  inside  the  room,  which  was  de- 
corated with  campaign  portraits  and  littered  with  torn  pa- 
per and  envelopes,  Mr.  Dallas  handed  his  young  friend  a 
box  of  cigars,  and  asked  him  to  help  himself. 

"  My  dear  young  fellow,"  he  began,  with  affectionate 
deliberation,  as  soon  as  they  had  both  seated  themselves  ; 
"you  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  a  career  which  you  can 
make  almost  anything  you  like.  I  mean  what  I  say,  sir," 
he  continued,  as  he  observed  in  Aleck  an  inclination  to 
contradict ;  "  I  mean  it  literally.  With  your  opportunities, 
your  fine  appearance — yes,  sir,  I  must  insist  upon  it — with 
your  fine  appearance,  and  your,  commanding  talents, 
there  need  be  nothing  which,  in  this  grand  republic  of 
ours,  you  might  not  legitimately  aspire  to." 

This  affectionate  tone  had,  at  first,  the  effect  of  half  dis- 
arming the  young  man,  and  if  he  had  only  had  confidence 
in  Mr.  Dallas's  character  he  would,  no  doubt,  have  surren- 
dered. But  as  he  recalled  the  situation  clearly  to  his 
mind,  and  his  own  purpose  never  to  compromise  with 
evil,  he  felt  his  courage  rise. 

"  I  shall  aspire  to  nothing,  Mr.  Dallas,"  he  said,  a  little 
hotly,  "  which  will  compel  me  to  put  my  self-respect  in 
my  pocket." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,  of  course  not,"  rejoined  the  poli- 
tician, suavely  ;  but,  after  a  pause  he  added,  laughing, 
"  though,  to  be  sure,  that  is  not  a  bad  place  to  have  it — 
ready  to  be  hauled  out  whenever  there  is  call  for  it." 


44  THE  MAMMON 

Though  he  was  not  sure  it  was  good  policy,  he  could 
not  deny  himself  the  luxury  of  the  joke. 

"  What  I  mean  to  say,"  he  continued,  as  if  eager  to  brush 
the  little  Mephistophelian  hint  out  of  sight,  "is  that  you 
have  a  great  political  future  before  you,  if  you  make  a 
prudent  -use  of  your  opportunities.  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
at  once  that  if  you  care  to  go  to  the  legislature,  I  think  we 
can  make  a  niche  for  you.  We  only  put  up  that  fellow, 
Greene,  because  we  had  no  one  better.  But  I'll  see  that 
he  is  taken  care  of,  anyway." 

There  was  to  Aleck  something  very  insinuating  in  Mr. 
Dallas's  speech  ;  something  well-meant  and  elder-brotherly, 
which  would  have  made  an  abrupt  refusal  on  his  part 
seem  little  less  than  brutal.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  he  meant  what  he  said  ;  he  had  it  in  his  power  to 
make  the  nomination,  and  Aleck  flattered  himself  that,  if 
nominated,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  his  election.  It 
was  no  very  grand  thing,  to  be  sure,  to  be  an  assembly- 
man ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  begin  on  the  lowest  rung  of 
the  ladder  if  he  meant  to  climb  to  the  highest  ones.  He 
had  a  sudden  widening  of  vision,  and  all  sorts  of  alluring 
things  rose  up,  one  behind  another,  in  the  dim  distance. 

"  I  believe,  without  flattering  myself,"  he  remarked, 
with  a  slight  embarrassment,  "  that  I  have  a  considerable 
aptitude  for  public  affairs." 

It  occurred  to  him,  when  he  had  uttered  this  sentiment, 
that  in  all  probability  it  must  have  struck  his  interlocutor 
as  very  fresh.  Possibly  he  was  sitting  and  laughing  at  him 
in  his  sleeve.  But  the  kindly  gravity  with  which  Mr. 
Dallas  answered  precluded  such  a  suspicion. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it.  I  wonder  at 
myself  that  I  never  thought  of  you  before." 

This  adroit  flattery  was  like  music  to  Aleck's  ears  ;  it 
put  him  off  his  guard  and,  in  his  agreeable  exhilaration, 
made  him  seem  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 

"  I  may  say,"  he  observed,  guilelessly,  "  that  politics  has 
always  had  a  great  attraction  to  me.  I  studied  political 
economy  in  college,  and  have  since  collected  a  very  fair 
library  in  that  science  and  in  constitutional  history." 

He  could  not  tell  why  his  ears  burned  so  uncomfort- 
ably, why  such  a  terrible  awkwardness  stole  over  him,  be- 
fore these  words  were  fairly  out  of  his  mouth.  He  looked 
anxiously  at  Mr.  Dallas,  and  thought  he  detected  a  ghost 
of  a  smile  lurking  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  At  that 
very  moment  a  great  laugh,  followed  by  hooting  and  cat- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  45 

calls,  reached  him  from  the  hall.  He  sprang  up,  knocking 
over  his  chair,  and  darted  toward  the  door. 

"  Hold  on  ! ''  cried  Dallas,  "what's  your  hurry  ?  " 

"  I  must  go." 

"  No,  don't  go  yet.  I  have  got  to  make  some  little  ar- 
rangements with  you  before  presenting  your  name  to  the 
convention." 

"  I  won't  make  any  arrangements  with  you,  Mr.  Dallas." 

"  Now,  don't  go  off  the  handle  like  a  goose.  I  thought 
we  understood  each  other  perfectly." 

"Yes,  we  do.  That  is  to  say,  I  understand  you  per- 
fectly ;  you  got  me  in  here  in  order  to  keep  me  away 
from  the  meeting,  where  I  was  interfering  with  your  plans. 
You  have  been  sitting  here  trying  to  bribe  me  to  desert 
my  convictions,  simply  because  you  were  afraid  I  should 
make  trouble  for  you  and  smash  your  slate  if  I  stayed  in 
the  hall." 

"Aleck  Larkin,  look  here!  "cried  the  politician,  spring- 
ing forward  and  placing  his  back  against  the  door;  "if 

you  open  your  d mouth  again  to-night,  I'll — I'll  make 

you  regret  it  until  your  dying  day." 

"All  right  !  Only,  please,  get  away  from  the  door,  so 
I  can  get  out." 

"You've  got  a  minute  to  decide  in." 

"  Go  away  from  the  door,  I  say,  or  I'll  knock  you 
down." 

Mr.  Dallas  looked,  not  angrily,  but  with  shrewd  scru- 
tiny at  the  young  man's  face;  then  thrusting  his  under  lip 
contemptuously  forward,  moved  away.  As  the  door  closed 
upon  Aleck's  retreating  figure  he  gave  a  whistle,  then 
broke  into  a  long  and  picturesquely  composite  oath. 

It  was  in  a  curious  frame  of  mind  the  young  reformer 
re-entered  the  hall.  Had  he,  or  had  he  not,  been  on  the 
point  of  yielding  ?  He  had  always,  in  speculative  mo- 
ments, imagined  himself  repelling  temptation  with  heroic 
decision  and  contempt  ;  and  here  he  had  actually  enter- 
tained the  proposition  to  accept  a  bribe  as  the  price  of  his 
silence!  What  was  doubly  humiliating,  he  was  not  now 
positive  whether  his  sudden  indignation  had  been  due  to 
outraged  moral  feeling,  or  to  the  discovery  of  the  trick 
which  the  politician  had  been  playing  upon  him.  But  if 
he  had  been  weak,  he  would  seize  the  opportunity  to  re- 
trieve himself.  He  felt  his  breast  swelling  with  leonine 
courage.  Now  let  them  come,  and  they  should  find  out 
whom  they  had  to  deal  with.  Happily,  Professor  Dowd 


46  THE  MAMMON 

had  been  occupying  the  time,  while  he  was  behind  the 
stage,  with  a  lecture  on  Kleon  and  the  Athenian  de- 
mocracy, the  purpose  of  which  was  to  show  that  a  democ- 
racy was  only  strong  as  long  as  it  was  truly  representa- 
tive, but  that  its  days  were  numbered  as  soon  as  it  fell 
into  the  hands  of  an  oligarchic  clique.  He  had  the  cour- 
age to  declare  that  the  six  party  managers  who 'carried 
out  the  behests  of  the  all-powerful,  office-dispensing  sena- 
tor in  Washington,  were  such  an  oligarchy,  and  that  it  was 
high  time  the  people  rebelled  against  their  rule.  This 
declaration  had  occasioned  the  mingled  shouts  of  approval 
and  dissent  which  had  recalled  Aleck  to  his  senses,  as  he 
was  sliding  along  the  broad  and  slippery  way  which  leads 
to  office  arid  political  distinction.  The  air  as  he  entered 
the  hall  was  thick  with  the  smoke  of  cheap  cigars,  which 
hung  like  a  bluish  mist  above  the  heads  of  the  people  ; 
and  the  light  from  the  globeless  gas-jets  shone  dimly,  like 
signal-lights  in  a  fog.  The  glare  of  the  hideous  white 
plaster  on  the  walls  hurt  his  eyes,  and  there  was  not  an 
object  anywhere  the  contemplation  of  which  could  have 
afforded  pleasure  to  the  most  easily  contented.  The 
crowd,  which  consisted  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
but  in  which  the  farmer  element  predominated,  vaguely 
repelled  him,  not  because  he  was  afraid  of  it,  but  because 
it  was  ill-dressed,  ill-mannered,  ill-looking.  Under  the 
stress  of  a  mere  aesthetic  antipathy,  he  felt  the  courage 
which  his  indignation  had  kindled  in  him  slowly  ebb 
away.  But,  if  he  did  not  mean  to  disgrace  himself,  he 
could  not  afford  to  yield  to  any  such  feeling.  He  hastily 
ascertained  that  his  amendment  had  not  yet  been  voted 
upon,  and  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  mistake  as  to 
his  own  attitude,  he  arose  when  Professor  Dowd  had  sat 
down  and  demanded  the  floor. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  he  said,  "  I  have  not  had  the  privi- 
lege of  hearing  all  the  remarks  of  the  last  speaker,  but 
from  his  eloquent  peroration  I  conclude  that  he  is  in 
favor  of  the  amendment  which  I  have  submitted.  I  think 
it  is  time  for  the  Republicans  of  this  county  to  wake  up 
and  take  a  look  at  their  political  affairs.  What  does  your 
privilege  of  voting  at  present  amount  to,  gentlemen  ?  Is 
it  not  the  privilege  of  choosing  between  two  sets  of  men, 
in  the  nomination  of  which  you  have  had  no  hand,  and  the 
one  of  which  is  usually  no  better  and  no  worse  than  the 
other.  Do  we  not  all  go  to  the  polls  with  a  protest  in  our 
hearts,  or  with  a  discouraged  or  an  outraged  feeling,  as  if 


-   OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  47 

we  had  been  shrewdly  circumvented  and  outwitted  ?  Are 
these  the  men  we  want  to  carry  on  our  public  business — 
men  whom,  with  one  or  two  honorable  exceptions,  we 
would  never  think  of  intrusting  with  any  private  business 
in  which  we  had  large  interests  at  stake  ?  This  sprinkling 
of  respectability,  fellow-republicans,  is  an  old  trick,  and  it 
can  no  more  redeem  a  bad  ticket  than  a  sprinkling  of  salt 
can  make  a  rotten  fish  wholesome.  The  opportunity 
which  is  to-day  presented  to  you,  of  showing  your  influ- 
ence in  favor  of  a  ticket  which  shall  be  clean  throughout, 
and  representative  of  the  best  intelligence  and  manhood 
of  our  county,  may  not  soon  return,  and  I  therefore  beg  of 
you  to  support  me  in  this  effort  to  reject  the  names  which 
have  been  proposed,  and  to  nominate  others  worthy  of 
your  suffrages,  both  as  regards  ability  and  character.  I 
therefore  urge  you  to  favor 'my  amendment,  that  each 
candidate  be  voted  upon  separately,  that  the  nominations 
be  made  by  ballot,  not  by  acclamation." 

When  the  customary  noise  of  shouting,  clapping,  stamp- 
ing, and  hissing  had  subsided,  an  old  round-backed  farmer 
arose,  and  in  a  raucous  and  solemn  voice  accused  "  the 
young  feller  as  has  been  makin'  the  rumpus  to-night"  of 
being  a  paid  emissary  of  the  Democrats — those  arch-plot- 
ters and  enemies  of  the  State — charged  with  sowing  the 
seed  of  dissension  among  the  Republicans,  and  thereby 
breaking  up  the  grand  old  party  which  had  freed  four 
million  slaves,  and  saved  the  Union.  The  managers  on 
the  platform  and  their  friends,  in  the  meanwhile,  were 
circulating  among  the  crowd  and  privately  laboring  with 
each  man,  alleging  that  Aleck  Larkin  was  nothing  but  a 
sore-head  ;  that  he  had  been  wanting  the  nomination  for 
the  Assembly,  and  that  he  was  kicking  up  a  row  simply  be- 
cause the  managers  had  refused  point-blank  to  consider 
his  name.  At  the  end  of  about  half  an  hour,  during  which 
speeches  had  been  made  on  both  sides  of  the  question, 
they  were  sure,  by  actual  count,  that  the  amendment  would 
be  rejected,  and  the  chairman  felt  safe  in  putting  the 
question.  Tellers  were  appointed  and  the  ballots  were 
deposited  in  two  old  stove-pipe  hats  which  were  placed  on 
a  table  in  front  of  the  platform.  -It  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock  when  the  vote  was  finally  declared,  and  what  was 
the  amazement  of  Mr.  Dallas  and  his  colleagues,  when  it 
was  found  that  their  calculations  had  been  all  wrong  !  One 
hundred  and  ten  votes  had  been  cast  for  the  amendment ; 
ninety-seven  against.  Their  slate  was  accordingly  broken, 


48  THE  MAMMON 

and  they  were  discredited  with  their  master  who  dispensed 
favors  from  Washington.  Yet,  pending  a  consultation, 
they  had  no  choice  but  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  situa- 
tion. 

Aleck,  flushed  with  victory,  stood  with  his  back  against 
the  wall,  listening  to  the  tremendous  applause  that  greeted 
the  announcement  of  the  result.  Dowd,  Ramsdale,  Dr. 
Hawk,  and  a  number  of  other  friends  made  their  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  overwhelmed  him  with  praise 
and  congratulations.  All  prophesied  for  him  a  great  poli- 
tical future  ;  some,  in  their  enthusiasm,  even  hinted  that 
it  would  not  surprise  them,  before  long,  to  see  him  in  Con- 
gress. Of  course,  he  deprecated  their  zeal  and  laughed 
at  their  prophecies  ;  but  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  there 
seemed  in  that  moment  nothing  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
power.  He  felt  like  some  strong  creature,  endowed  with 
wings  which  can  and  must  bear  him  higher  and  higher. 
It  was  not  the  mere  accidental  result  of  the  vote  which 
buoyed  him  up  ;  but  the  excitement  of  the  struggle  itself 
had  something  expanding  and  exhilarating.  He  had 
stood  shivering  on  the  brink  of  his  resolution,  but  like  a 
powerful  swimmer,  when  once  he  has  taken  a  header,  he 
felt  a  healthful  glow  pervading  his  frame.  He  was  enlisted 
on  the  side  of  the  powers  of  light  in  their  world-old  strug- 
gle with  the  powers  of  darkness.  He  was  destined  to  be 
one  of  the  leaders  in  the  conflict.  Was  not  such  a  con- 
sciousness enough  to  consecrate  a  life,  and  make  it  beauti- 
ful ? 

But  here  was  no  time  for  dreaming.  Here  was  practi- 
cal work  at  hand.  Mr.  Dallas,  who  again  occupied  the 
chair,  had,  with  the  best  grace  possible,  declared  that 
nominations  were  in  order,  and  one  of  his  lieutenants  on 
the  floor  had  made  a  speech  recommending  the  original 
nominee  on  the  broken  slate.  Mr.  Burton  was  an  obscure 
young  lawyer,  without  any  other  practice  than  such  as  his 
political  affiliations  brought  him.  No  sooner  had  the 
lieutenant  sat  down  than  Aleck  was  again  on  his  feet ;  but 
the  chair  took  no  notice  of  him,  and  gave  the  floor  to  an- 
other of  his  sympathizers  who  endorsed  Burton.  A  sec- 
ond and  a  third  time  Aleck  demanded  the  floor,  but  each 
time  failed  to  be  recognized  by  the  chair.  At  last,  seeing 
that  the  oversight  was  intentional,  he  walked  up  and 
placed  himself  right  in  front  of  the  platform,  demanding 
the  right  to  speak. 

"Oh,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Dallas,  smiling;  "why,   I 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  49 

wasn't  aware  you  wanted  to  speak.  I  thought,  after  your 
recent  effort,  you  needed  rest." 

"You  evidently  mistook  your  own  feelings  for  mine," 
responded  Aleck,  promptly,  and  the  audience,  always  ap- 
preciative of  a  joke,  and  sympathizing  with  opposition, 
laughed  and  applauded.  The  politician  had  to  swallow 
the  bitter  pill  ;  he  gave  the  floor  to  his  opponent.  It  is 
needless  to  report  the  speech  which  the  latter  made  in 
favor  of  pledging  the  delegation  to  vote  for  the  renomina- 
tion  of  Judge  Wolf,  who  by  his  rigid  interpretation  of  the 
law  and  his  unaccommodating  spirit,  had  given  offence  to 
the  "  boys."  When,  after  much  discussion  and  exchange 
of  acrimonious  repartees,  a  ballot  was  taken,  there  proved 
to  be  a  majority  of  fourteen  in  favor  of  the  proposition. 
Pandemonium  now  broke  loose  ;  everybody  seemed  bent 
upon  speaking,  while  no  one  cared  to  listen.  In  the 
midst  of  this  confusion,  Aleck  made  his  way  to  Professor 
Wharton,  and  induced  him  to  nominate  his  brother  Hor- 
ace as  the  head  of  the  delegation  ;  for  his  name,  everyone 
would  admit,  would  be  a  guarantee  of  good  faith.  But  no 
sooner  had  the  Professor  revealed  his  purpose,  than  Hor- 
ace rose,  and,  in  a  few  conventional  phrases,  thanked  for 
the  honor  and  declined  it.  His  business  engagements,  he 
said,  were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  make  it  impossible  for 
him,  at  the  present  time,  to  accept  any  public  trust.  The 
Professor  sat  down,  a  trifle  disconcerted,  and  sent  be- 
wildered glances  in  the  direction  of  Aleck,  who,  as  he  later 
expressed  it,  had  persuaded  him  to  make  a  fool  of  himself. 
Aleck,  however,  who  in  the  intoxication  of  his  triumph 
had  gloried  in  the  opportunity  to  fulfil  one  of  his 
brother's  secret  wishes,  was  completely  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  his  refusal.  The  sense  of  power  and  the  thirst  for 
beneficent  activity  which  had  animated  him  during  the 
entire  evening,  suddenly  deserted  him.  There  was  some- 
thing utterly  disappointing,  almost  humiliating,  to  him  in 
the  thought  that  Horace  was  unwilling  to  accept  an 
honor  which  he  had  been  instrumental  in  bestowing. 
That  subterfuge  about  private  business  affairs  he  knew  to 
be  an  invention. 

The  discussion  became  interminable  and  aimless,  and 
interested  Aleck  no  more.  He  saw  plainly  that  it  was 
the  chairman's  intention  to  tire  out  the  professors  and 
their  sympathizers  in  the  audience  ;  and  that  the  depar- 
ture of  but  a  dozen  of  them  would  secure  the  triumph  of 
the  rest  of  the  slate.  The  professprs  were  vaguely  con- 


5O  THE  MAMMON 

scious  of  Mr.  Dallas's  intention,  and  for  this  reason  stayed 
until  long  after  midnight  ;  but  gradually  hunger  and  bad 
air  oppressed  their  lungs  and  exhausted  their  patience, 
and  one  by  one  they  stole  out  and  pegged  up  the  hill-side. 
When  Mr.  Dallas,  who  had  a  trusted  lieutenant  stationed 
at  that  door,  felt  confident  beyond  peradventure  that  his 
friends  were  in  the  majority,  he  cut  discussion  short;  and 
the  result  of  the  ballot  this  time  showed  that  he  had  made 
no  miscalculation.  His  candidates  got  their  required 
majority.  There  was  now  nothing  more  to  be  done. 
Aleck,  seeing  that  he  could  not  prevent  the  election  of  the 
machine  delegates,  sauntered  out  and  was  soon  followed 
by  his  brother.  Old  Mr.  Larkin,  after  having  refused  to 
keep  his  nephew  in  order,  had  betaken  himself  home 
early  in  the  evening.  He  held  Aleck's  performances  to 
be  as  futile  as  the  somersaults  of  a  wooden  monkey  over  a 
stick,  but  he  liked,  for  all  that,  to  have  him  show  pluck 
and  readiness  of  resource.  From  an  educational  point 
of  view  he  approved  of  "  the  row,"  and  was  entertained 
by  it. 

The  two  brothers  walked  along  in  silence,  while  the  dry 
leaves  rustled  under  their  feet.  The  air  was  damp,  and 
there  was  a  close,  mouldy  smell  of  decaying  vegetation. 
Now  and  then  an  aimless  gust  of  wind  came  careering 
along  and  swept  the  leaves  into  a  whirl,  or  chased  them 
along  like  a  panic-stricken  army. 

"  Horace,"  said  Aleck,  looking  up  at  the  waning  moon, 
"  why  did  you  refuse  that  nomination  as  delegate  ?" 

"  For  several  reasons,"  answered  Horace. 

"  Let's  hear  them." 

"  Well,  first,  because  I  shouldn't  care  to  make  Dallas  and 
his  gang  my  enemies." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  enter  political  life  under  their 
auspices  ? " 

"  Theirs  are  the  only  auspices  in  this  county,  under 
which  political  life  can  be  entered." 

"  Then  you  really  declined  because  you  knew  that  the 
nomination  came  from  me  ?" 

"Well,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  I  did." 

Aleck  glanced  toward  his  brother's  averted  face,  in  the 
twilight  ;  it  looked  calm,  prudent,  and  determined.  It 
was  the  face  of  a  man  who  was  bound  to  succeed.  He 
felt  a  sharp  pang  of  regret,  of  self-pity — of  disappoint- 
ment— he  scarcely  knew  what.  He  dimly  divined  the 
spiritual  gulf  between  himself  and  Horace.  The  triumph 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  $1 

in  which  he  had  exulted  had  been,  after  all,  but  a  bonfire 
of  blazing  illusions  ;  and  now  there  was  nothing  but  the 
ashes  left.  If  it  be  true  that  wisdom  consists  not  so  much 
in  knowledge  gained  as  in  illusions  abandoned,  his  elder 
brother  started  with  a  great  advantage  over  him  ;  for  he 
was  wise  already  ;  he  had  no  illusions  to  abandon. 


52  .  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER- V. 

A   FOX   AND   A   TRAP. 

Aleck  Larkin's  political  rebellion,  the  old  man's  neu- 
trality, and  Horace's  shrewdness,  were  the  chief  topics  of 
conversation  during  the  two  weeks  which  preceded  the 
election.  In  the  book-stores  and  corner  groceries,  which 
were  dedicated  to  the  discussion  of  public  events,  there 
were  found  not  a  few  who  admired  the  young  man's  pluck 
in  taking  up  arms  against  so  formidable,  widely  ramified, 
and  completely  organized  a  power  as  the  Republican  ma- 
chine. But  there  were  many  more  who  laughed  at  his 
presumption,  and  praised  the  foresight  and  self-restraint 
of  his  brother,  which  before  long  would  have  their  reward. 
About  the  "railroad  depot,  where  the  leisured  class  of  the 
population  sat  on  trunks  and  boxes,  betting  on  anything 
that  turned  up,  from  a  dog-fight  to  a  presidential  election, 
the  latter  view  generally  prevailed,  and  odds  were  offered, 
but  never  taken,  favoring  Horace's  prospects  at  the  ex- 
pense of  those  of  his  brother. 

It  was  not  the  public  disapproval,  however,  which 
troubled  Aleck,  but  he  was  bitterly  disappointed  at  his 
failure  to  accomplish  what  he  had  set  out  to  do.  After 
the  departure  of  the  University  contingent,  the  regular 
machine  slate  had  been  elected  ;  and  Judge  Wolf,  as  the 
solitary  representative  of  respectability,  would,  he  feared, 
be  more  obnoxious  to  a  convention  constituted  of  office- 
holders and  their  satellites.  This  latter  fear,  however, 
turned  out  to  be  groundless  ;  for  a  strong  influence  in 
favor  of  the  Judge  made  itself  manifest  from  other  parts 
of  the  county,  and  he  carried  the  convention  in  spite  of 
the  opposition  of  the  machine  influence.  It  was  an  open 
secret,  however,  that  the  managers  had  determined  to 
knife  him  on  election  day  because  they  resented  his  being 
"crammed  down  their  throats," and  longed  for  a  chance  to 
inspire  the  obnoxious  reformers  with  respect  for  their 
power.  Aleck,  in  spite  of  his  mortification,  resolved  to 
accept  the  challenge  and,  if  possible,  elect  his  Judge.  He 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  53 

confided  his  plan  to  Horace,  who  laughed  at  him,  called 
him  a  visionary,  but  ended  with  giving  him,  under  the 
pledge  of  secrecy,  valuable  advice.  If  he  had  set  his  heart 
on  electing  his  judge,  he  said,  there  was  but  one  way  to 
accomplish  it,  and  that  was  not  to  say  a  word  about  it, 
but,  early  on  election  day,  organize  a  squad  of  his  friends 
upon  whom  he  could  rely,  and  send  a  couple  of  them  to 
each  polling  place  in  the  county.  While  these  watched 
the  polls,  others  should  be  sent  about  with  buggies  to 
hunt  up  out-of-the-way  voters,  and  on  the  road  persuade 
them  to  vote  for  the  Judge. 

Election  day  dawned  still  and  smoky,  full  of  sad  autum- 
nal feeling,  over  the  Torryville  valley.  There  was  a  smell 
of  burning  in  the  air.  Elms  and  maples,  half  denuded  of 
their  foliage,  stretched  their  ragged  branches  against  the 
sky  ;  and  now  and  then  noiselessly  dropped  a  leaf  which 
went  gyrating  downward,  and  softly  alighted  among  the 
rustling  heap  which  covered  the  roads  and  filled  the  gut- 
ters. The  silence  in  the  streets  had  no  swelling  undertone 
of  chirruping  locusts  and  bird-song  ;  it  seemed  dead  and 
heavy  ;  only  interrupted  at  times  by  the  falling  of  a  chest- 
nut-bur which  burst  open,  revealing  the  richly  brown 
fruit  within,  or  the  crackling  of  dry  branches  as  an  early 
voter  came  shuffling  along,  inspecting  the  tickets  which  he 
had  received  by  mail  the  night  before.  Among  the  very 
earliest  to  exercise  their  civic  rights,  when  the  sun  had 
shown  his  dim  and  sleepy  countenance  above  the  eastern 
hills,  were  Aleck  and  his  fellow-conspirators,  Hawk  and 
Ramsdale.  The  latter,  though  they  were,  for  obvious  rea- 
sons, not  fond  of  each  other,  professed  a  warm  friendship 
for  Aleck,  and  were  quite  ready  to  work  for  the  same  end 
where  his  interests  were  at  stake.  They  were  met  on  the 
sidewalk  outside  the  shabby  cigar  store,  upon  the  counter 
of  which  the  seven  ballot-boxes  were  placed,  by  half  a 
dozen  electioneering  agents  who  buttonholed  them,  and 
tried  to  pull  them  aside  to  urge  upon  them  the  claims  of 
different  candidates.  They  were  not  noisy  and  argumenta- 
tive, but  mysteriously  confidential ;  hinting  in  an  undertone 
at  deals  and  all  sorts  of  nefarious  things  committed  by  the 
opposing  party.  There  was  also  a  middle-aged  woman  in ' 
Bloomer  costume,  covered  from  the  shoulders  to  the  knees 
by  two  huge  placards  on  which  was  printed,  in  mammoth 
letters : 

No  LICENSE  !    VOTE  THE 
PROHIBITION  TICKET  ! 


54  THE  MAMMON 

She  elbowed  her  way  boldly  through  the  crowd  of  elec- 
tioneering agents,  and  presented  the  three  young  men 
with  a  set  of  tickets  and  handbills,  bearing  the  legends  :  "A 
Vote  for  License  is  a  Vote  for  Hell ! "  and  "  Vote  for  Christ 
and  no  Rum  !" 

"  Now,  Mr.  Larkin,  you  want  to  be  on  the  right  side  in 
this  election,"  she  began,  seizing  both  Aleck's  hands  and 
staring  straight  into  his  face. 

"  I  am  already  on  the  right  side,  Mrs.  French,"  he  an- 
swered, laughing  ;  "you  will  excuse  me,  until  some  other 
time  ;  then  I'll  be  happy  fto  discuss  the  matter  with  you." 

She  began,  in  a  sermonizing  tone,  what  was  evidently  a 
set  speech  in  favor  of  prohibition  ;  and  held  him  at  the 
same  time  so  tightly  by  the  hands  that  he  found  it  difficult 
to  tear  himself  away. 

"Another  time,  Mrs.  French,  another  time,"  he  cried, 
in  laughing  vexation,  as  he  escaped  into  the  store. 

"  Another  time,  you  rogue,  I  shan't  want  to  waste  my 
words  upon  you,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  clenched  fist 
after  him. 

He  had  already  prepared  his  ballots  the  night  before, 
and  lost  no  time  in  depositing  them.  Among  the  inspec- 
tors of  election  who  sat  behind  the  counter  and  checked 
off  the  names  in  their  poll-books,  there  was  apparently  one 
who  could  not  read  writing,  and  another  who,  if  he  could 
write,  was  unwilling  to  display  his  accomplishment.  But 
Mr.  Graves,  the  bilious-looking  tanner,  who  was  also 
seated  at  the  table  in  an  official  capacity,  was  kindly  assist- 
ing them,  and  was  every  moment  having  his  pen  over  in 
their  books.  He  nodded  with  a  malicious  smile  to  Aleck, 
as  his  name  was  called,  and  licking  an  unlighted  cigar,  one 
end  of  which  he  had  been  chewing,  observed  pleasantly  : 
"Good  Republican  weather,  Mr.  Larkin!  A  heavy  vote 
means  a  Republican  victory." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,  Mr.  Graves.  I  suppose  you  con- 
clude from  that,  that  Providence  is  on  your  side." 

"  If  I  did  not  believe  that  He  was  on  our  side,  sir, " 
Graves  responded,  with  great  earnestness,  "  I'd  be  d — d  if 
I'd  ever  cast  another  ballot  in  my  life." 

Aleck  had,  in  accordance  with  his  brother's  advice, 
organized  his  plot  with  great  secrecy.  He  had  made 
arrangements  with  about  twenty  of  his  friends,  several  of 
whom  were  students  in  the  University,  that  they  were  to 
take  early  trains  to  the  other  towns  and  villages  in  the 
county,  hire  buggies  (which  had  already  been  telegraphed 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  55 

for  in  advance)  at  his  expense,  and  spend  the  entire  day, 
laboring  by  all  legitimate  means  for  Judge  Wolfs  election. 
He  had  reserved  Torryville  for  himself,  as  he  knew  that 
the  influence  of  his  name  would  be  more  potent  there  than 
elsewhere.  He  had  just  separated  from  his  friends  and 
given  them  the  last  instructions,  when  he  espied  his  broth- 
er's close-buttoned  figure  approaching  from  the  upper  end 
of  the  street.  Horace  was  walking  along  with  a  deliberate 
step,  gazing  straight  down  before  him,  as  his  habit  was 
when  he  was  absorbed  in  thought.  It  struck  Aleck  again 
what  a  solid,  weighty,  and  definite  personality  his  brother 
was.  He  never  looked  aimlessly  about  him,  like  most  men, 
but  had  his  eyes  as  his  thoughts  clearly  fixed  upon  some 
exact  object.  Though  he  admired  him  greatly,  he  never 
could  get  quite  near  him ;  he  could  not  deny  that  he  was 
a  little  bit  afraid  of  his  pitiless  logic  and  cold  worldly 
sense. 

"  Hallo,"  said  Horace,  taking  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth; 
"why  did  you  run  away  from  your  breakfast  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  forgot ! " 

"  Forgot  to  eat  breakfast !  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so 
unscrupulous." 

"Unscrupulous  ?" 

"  Yes,  unscrupulous.  A  man  who,  in  order  to  accomplish 
his  designs,  gets  up  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  forget- 
ting even  to  pay  the  flesh  its  due,  is  unscrupulous." 

He  looked  so  serious  that  Aleck,  for  a  moment,  was  in 
doubt  whether  he  was  joking  or  in  earnest.  "  But  I  acted 
on  your  advice,  Horace,"  he  said,  with  an  uncertain  smile. 

"  I  did  not  advise  you,"  responded  his  brother,  imper- 
turbably  ;  "  I  did  not  pronounce  upon  the  morality  of  your 
undertaking.  I  merely  said  that  if  you  wished  to  elect 
your  man,  you  would  have  to  employ  the  very  methods 
which  you  condemned  in  others.  I  wished  to  catch  you 
in  inconsistency,  in  order  to  give  you  an  illustration  of  the 
impracticability  of  your  high  moral  standards  applied  to 
politics,  or  in  fact,  to  anything." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say  that  you  intentionally  laid  a  trap 
for  me  ? " 

"Yes,  if  you  like  you  may  call  it  that.  I  did  it,  because 
I  have  your  welfare  at  heart,  and  wish  to  teach  you  the 
road  to  success,  while  you  are  yet  young  enough  to  profit 
by  the  lesson." 

A  strange  strident  sound,  like  the  grating  of  an  iron 
gate,  came  from  the  sky  above  them  ;  on  looking  up,  they 


56  THE  MAMMON 

saw  a  flock  of  wild  geese  following  in  horseshoe-shaped 
flight  their  leader,  who,  with  his  long  neck  outstretched, 
was  guiding  their  way  to  a  sunnier  clime.  A  silence  fell 
upon  the  two  brothers,  while  they  stood  watching  the 
winged  troop,  as  it  vanished  in  the  smoky  air  beyond  the 
towers  of  the  University  buildings. 

"What  a  happy  time  they  have  of  it,"  said  Aleck,  "  to  be 
flying  so  high  above  all  moral  perplexities." 

"  In  that  respect  you  resemble  them,"  answered  Horace  ; 
"it  is  just  that  which  I  object  to  in  you,  that  you  are  a 
high-flier  whose  actions  have  no  root  in  facts,  but  in  fond 
imaginings." 

There  was  a  real  distress  in  the  younger  brother's  face, 
as  he  listened  to  this  unfeeling  criticism.  "What  have  I 
done,  Horace,  that  displeases  you  so?"  he  asked,  with 
touching  simplicity. 

"  Displeases  me  !  You  make  me  sick  with  your  slipshod 
habits  of  thought.  I  have  not  said  a  word  about  my  own 
displeasure.  I  have  merely  said  that,  as  a  political  re- 
former, you  have  adopted  the  very  methods  of  the  organi- 
zation you  have  set  out  to  reform." 

"Why,  I  have  distinctly  said  to  all  my  friends  that  they 
are  only  to  influence  the  voters  by  honest  persuasion— 

"And  free  buggy  rides." 

"  I  have  told  them  to  refrain  from  all  abuse  and  slan- 
der  " 

"But  you  have  yourself  employed  intimidation." 

"Intimidation  !" 

"Have  you  not  called  upon  the  family  butcher  and 
baker  and  candlestick  maker,  and  told  them  why  you  in- 
tend to  vote  for  Wolf  ? " 

"  Well,  what  wrong  is  there  in  that  ? " 

"  Though  you  have  not  said  it,  you  have  led  them  to 
suppose  that  the  influence  of  our  family,  which,  you  know, 
counts  for  a  great  deal  in  the  town,  is  thrown  on  the  side 
of  your  candidate,  and  that  the  loss  of  our  patronage  may 
result  from  voting  against  him.  That  is  what  I  call  in- 
timidation." 

"  Why,  Horace,  I  assure  you " 

"  My  dear  boy,  don't  defend  yourself.  I  am  not  blam- 
ing you.  I  am  merely  holding  up  a  looking-glass  to  you. 
A  truthful  looking-glass  is  often  the  severest  of  censors. 
Good-morning." 

He  struck  a  match  on  the  sole  of  his  boot  and  lighted 
his  cigar,  which  had  gone  out  during  the  discussion. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  57 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  between  the  puffs  of  smoke, 
"you  have  done  some  very  valuable  work  for  the  ma- 
chine." 

"  For  the  machine  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  by  your  work  for  Wolf  you 
have  saved  the  whole  ticket.  And,  between  ourselves,  I 
quite  agree  with  you  that  it  is  bad." 

He  nodded,  with  a  gleam  of  amusement  in  his  eyes,  to 
the  unhappy  reformer,  and  strolled  toward  the  polls,  strik- 
ing his  heels  against  the  wooden  sidewalk.  Aleck,  half 
stupefied  by  this  parting  shot,  stood  gazing  after  him  with 
a  look  of  bewilderment  and  distress. 

"I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,"  he  muttered  ;  and,  in  a 
mood  of  bitter  disillusion,  sauntered  homeward. 


58  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A   QUEER    FATHER    CONFESSOR. 

The  Reverend  Arthur  Robbins,  estimable  though  he 
was,  and  anxious  to  be  of  help,  was  not  the  kind  of  man 
to  whom  you  would  naturally  resort  in  hours  of  tribula- 
tion. He  could  be,  at  times,  mildly  pastoral  ;  but  he  was 
never  priestly.  When,  for  all  that,  Alexander  Larkin, 
after  a  day  spent  in  keen  misery,  betook  himself  in  the 
evening  to  the  Congregational  parsonage,  it  was  chiefly 
because  he  felt  an  acute  need  of  sympathy,  and  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  was  equally  agreeable  as  a  talker  and  a  listener.  He 
was  always  delighted  to  see  you,  made  you  feel  as  if  you 
conferred  an  honor  upon  him  by  calling,  expended  his 
best  cigars  upon  you,  and,  as  long  as  you  were  not  in  ob- 
vious conflict  with  the  ten  commandments,  approved  of 
everything  you  said  and  did.  He  could  even,  when  the 
humor  took  him,  tell  mildly  improper  anecdotes  in  a 
hushed  voice  and  with  a  delicious  sense  of  their  wicked- 
ness, while  he  glanced  half  anxiously  toward  the  door 
which  separated  his  study  from  the  virginal  bower  of  his 
daughters.  There  was  the  story  of  the  clergyman  who,  at 
a  bachelor's  funeral,  prayed  for  the  sorrowing  children, 
and  half  a  dozen  others  in  the  same  strain.  Clergymen 
and  deacons  were  invariably  their  heroes. 

It  was  this  kind  of  gently  soothing  entertainment  which 
Aleck  needed  to  heal  the  bruises  which  his  brother's  piti- 
less words  had  inflicted.  He  had  spent  the  morning,  since 
his  return  from  the  polls,  in  his  room,  torturing  himself 
with  doubts  and  self-examination.  He  had  been  making 
a  journey  of  exploration  into  the  untrodden  regions  of  his 
heart,  and  he  had  come  back  filled  with  distress  at  the 
things  he  had  seen.  Now,  without  directly  making  a  con^ 
fidant  of  Mr.  Robbins,  he  wished  to  be  made  to  feel  that 
his  humiliating  conclusions  regarding  himself  were  all 
wrong,  that  he  was  in  reality  a  good  and  estimable  fellow. 

The  clergyman  had  hastily  divested  himself  of  his  dress- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  $9 

ing-gown  and  was  adjusting  the  collar  of  his  coat,  when 
his  visitor  was  ushered  into  his  study. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Mr.  Larkin,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you," 
he  said,  extending  a  soft,  warm  hand  to  Aleck  ;  "  pray  sit 
down — here,  this  chair  is  more  comfortable — and  what 
kind  of  a  cigar  can  I  offer  you?  Mild,  middling,  or 
strong  ?  Here,  take  your  choice.  If  you'll  allow  me  to 
advise  you,  I  would  recommend  these  Almansors  ;  they 
have  the  real  flavor  that  rejoices  the  soul." 

It  was  Mr.  Robbins's habit,  when  he  liked  a  man,  to  take 
him,  as  it  were,  by  storm — to  overwhelm  him  with  cordial- 
ity ;  while  he  possessed  in  the  same  degree  the  faculty  of 
chilling  those  whom  he  disliked  to  the  marrow  of  their 
bones.  As  a  clergyman  in  a  small  country  town,  he  could, 
of  course,  not  have  indulged  the  latter  luxury,  if  he  had 
been  pecuniarily  dependent  upon  his  congregation.  But 
the  fact  was,  Mr.  Robbins  had,  in  his  callow  days,  married 
a  rich  but  preternaturally  homely  wife,  who,  after  having 
presented  him  with  five  daughters,  four  of  whom  had  in- 
herited her  lack  of  chin,  betook  herself  to  that  realm  where 
a  lack  of  chin  is  not  incompatible  with  happiness.  But 
during  her  earthly  career  an  excess  of  nose  and  the 
above-named  deficiency  made  her  life  a  martyrdom.  She 
had  hungered  for  her  husband's  admiration  writh  a  hope- 
less and  unwearied  passion.  She  knew  that,  however 
much  he  endeavored  to  conceal  it,  he  disliked  the  sight 
of  her.  He  was  something  of  an  epicurean,  with  aesthetic 
tastes  and  inclined  to  luxurious  habits.  The  very  instinct 
which  had  prompted  him  to  woo  her  prevented  him  from 
loving  her.  The  birth  in  rapid  succession  of  four  daugh- 
ters, whom  according  to  their  profiles  you  would  have 
classed  in  the  order  of  Rodents,  was  accepted  by  their 
father  as  a  chastening  discipline,  or  a  reminder  from  Prov- 
idence that  the  unworthy  motive  of  his  marriage  was  yet 
unforgiven.  But  when  No.  5  came  and  developed  a  clean- 
cut,  well-proportioned  countenance,  he  freely  forgave  her 
her  sex  and  took  her  to  his  heart.  Though  his  suspected 
difference  with  Heaven  had  never  greatly  troubled  him, 
the  reconciliation  expressed  in  this  child's  fair  features 
seemed  a  great  and  momentous  event,  worthy  of  a  special 
celebration.  After  having  pondered  various  ways  of 
worthily  commemorating  it,  Mr.  Robbins  sent  to  New 
York  for  a  case  of  fine  old  Madeira  and  a  dozen  boxes  of 
Almansor  cigars.  He  kept  these  treasures  strictly  for  him- 
self, knowing  that  there  were  neither  palates  nor  nostrils 


60  THE  MAMMON 

in  Torryville  capable  of  appreciating  them.  He  made  an 
exception  of  Aleck,  first  because  he  liked  him,  secondly 
because  he  cherished  a  secret  ambition  to  make  him  his 
son-in-law,  and  thirdly  because  his  face  and  his  talk  showed 
him  to  be  a  man  of  fine  senses. 

The  conspicuous  way  in  which  Mr.  Robbins  favored  his 
handsome  daughter  at  the  expense  of  the  unattractive  ones 
occasioned  a  good  deal  of  comment  in  his  congregation, 
and  more  than  one  sister  had  attempted  to  give  him  a  re- 

,  alizing  sense  of  the  disapproval  with  which  his  unfatherly 
conduct  was  regarded.  But  here  the  advantage  of  a  bank 

!  account  became  manifest.  With  the  moral  support  which 
it  gave  him,  Mr.  Robbins  became  obtuse  of  comprehension 
and  freezingly  and  uncomfortably  polite  ;  and  his  moni- 
tresses  became  ill  at  ease,  and  wished  themselves  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door.  If  there  were  mutterings  of  dis- 
content in  his  church  (as  sometimes  there  were),  he  pursued 
the  even  tenor  of  his  way  and  refused  to  be  annoyed.  If 
he  had  been  a  poor  man,  he  would,  of  course,  have  been 
remonstrated  with,  and  perhaps  requested  to  resign.  But 
a  pastor  who  himself  subscribed  to  the  raising  of  the 
church  debt  could  not  be  treated  in  that  off-hand  way  ;  and 
everything  considered,  he  was  a  good  and  fairly  eloquent 
man,  not  quite  sound  on  eternal  punishment,  perhaps,  but 
otherwise  highly  acceptable.  His  sermons  had  also  at 
times  shown  a  dangerous  laxity  in  other  doctrines,  and 
for  months  he  seemed  to  be  drifting,  Sunday  by  Sunday, 
ever  further  toward  all  sorts  of  modern  heresies  and  "  lib- 
eral" interpretations.  But  just  as  he  seemed  to  be  on  the 
point  of  taking  the  fatal  plunge,  he  would  pull  up  suddenly, 
as  you  stop  a  run-away  horse,  and  return  the  next  Sunday 
to  the  bluest  and  fiercest  Calvinism.  The  flames  of  the 
pit  fairly  blazed  with  their  sulphurous  fumes  through  those 
discourses,  and  "the  old  people"  were  comforted.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  it  was  mere  fright  at  the  results  toward 
which  he  was  drifting  which  led  Mr.  Robbins  to  call  a  halt 
in  that  energetic  fashion.  But  when  his  fear  was  over,  he 
began  again  to  drift,  preached  about  seven  geological  pe- 
riods, which  were  evidently  what  was  meant  by  the  seven 
days  of  creation,  and  involved  himself  in  all  sorts  of  fu- 
tile ingenuities  to  prove  that  the  Bible  had  anticipated  all 
the  discoveries  of  science.  Since  his  wife's  death,  nine 
years  ago,  he  was  more  frequently  subject  to  these  attacks 
of  liberalism,  possibly  because,  her  sinister  presence  being 
removed  from  his  life,  he  acquired  a  greater  faith  in  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  6 1 

general  benevolence  of  Providence.  On  the  whole,  he 
felt  himself  on  good  terms  with  the  Ruler  of  the  Universe, 
being  confident  that  he  was  rather  a  meritorious  creature, 
and  unquestionably,  in  morality  and  intelligence,  above  the 
average  of  his  kind.  Even  his  four  "  Rodents  "  were  not 
the  affliction  they  once  had  been  ;  and  he  was  able,  with- 
out much  effort,  to  treat  them  with  kindness.  They  ap- 
parently accepted  their  fate  with  stoicism,  as  being  in  the 
inscrutable  nature  of  things,  regarded  their  father  with 
shy  respect  out  of  their  bead-like  eyes,  and  gave  him  at 
times  an  uneasy  feeling  that  all  sorts  of  curious  things 
might  be  going  on  inside  of  those  heads,  of  which  he  had 
not  the  faintest  conception.  The  alertness  of  their  black 
eyes,  which  nothing  escaped,  their  queer  mute  communi- 
cations, as  they  sat  with  him  at  the  table,  and  their  mys- 
terious, suppressed  titters  when  nothing  had  occurred  that 
seemed  to  anyone  else  ridiculous,  strengthened  in  him  the 
impression  of  their  alienism — as  if  they  were  mere  so- 
journers  in  his  house  rather  than  his  children. 

Alexander  Larkin,  being  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  par- 
sonage, had  been  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  relations 
of  the  household  from  his  boyhood.  He  was  what  the  Ger- 
mans call  a  "  house-friend,"  with  a  definite  place  in  each 
one's  estimation.  He  marvelled  at  nothing  and  needed  no 
explanations  ;  and  half  of  the  charm  of  his  society  con- 
sisted, in  his  host's  eyes,  in  this  easy  and  natural  familiar- 
ity. If  Mr.  Robbins,  in  his  heart,  hoped  that  he  came  to 
see  Arabella,  he  was  not  on  that  account  less  inclined  to 
claim  his  full  share  of  his  attention.  Arabella's  preference 
for  the  elder  brother  her  father  professed  to  regard  as  a 
caprice  which  he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand.  He  had, 
indeed,  the  highest  respect  for  Horace's  ability,  but  he  was 
a  trifle  afraid  of  him,  and  could  not  persuade  himself  to 
like  him. 

"  Pardon  me,  parson,"  Alexander  was  saying,  as  he  set- 
tled back  luxuriously  in  his  easy-chair,  "  but  are  not  these 
cigars  of  yours  rather  unclerical  ? " 

"You  mean  to  say,"  his  host  replied,  "that  a  clergyman 
should  smoke  to  mortify  the  flesh  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  profess  to  have  any  opinion  as  to  what  a 
clergyman  should  do  and  not  do,"  rejoined  the  young  man  ; 
"  and,  anyway,  the  time  is  past  when  heretics  were 
smoked." 

"  Yes  ;  now  they  smoke  instead  of  being  smoked.  But 
I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  a*n  a  heretic  ? " 


62  THE  MAMMON 

"  No  ;  I  am  aware  that  this  is  one  of  your  orthodox 
weeks." 

"Hush,  my  dear  boy,  what  are  you  saying  there?" 
ejaculated  Robbins,  with  hushed  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  going  to  take  you  to  task.  I  like  your 
heretical  sermons  better  than  the  orthodox  ones." 

Robbins  laughed  gently  to  himself  as,  with  keen  enjoy- 
ment, he  blew  the  cigar  smoke  toward  the  great  lamp  on 
the  table. 

"  You  are  a  sly  dog,"  he  said,  "  but  I'll  admit  there  is  a 
grain  of  truth  in  your  insinuation.  The  fact  is,  the  old 
people  in  the  church  get  alarmed  occasionally  at  my  ad- 
vanced views,  and  I  am  obliged,  now  and  then,  to  set  them 
at  rest  in  regard  to  my  orthodoxy." 

Aleck  had  no  desire  to  press  the  subject  further,  as  he 
saw  awkward  possibilities  in  it. 

"  Mr.  Robbins,"  he  began,  after  a  pause,  "  I  came  here 
to  ask  you  a  favor." 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  shall  be  delighted  if  I  can  be  of  service 
to  you." 

"  I  want  you  to  bolster  up  my  self-esteem.  I  am  in  an 
uncomfortably  humble  mood." 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,  that's  all." 

"How  so?" 

Aleck  told  him  the  story  of  his  efforts  to  re-elect  Judge 
Wolf,  and  of  his  brother's  discouraging  comments. 

"  I  can't  see  but  that  you  have  been  doing  exactly 
right,"  said  Mr.  Robbins,  when  he  had  finished;  "you 
have  tried  to  save  a  worthy  and  upright  man  from  being 
punished  for  his  uprightness,  and  whether  you  succeed  or 
not,  you  deserve  credit  for  having  made  the  effort.  When 
we  have  done  our  best,  we  can  only  leave  the  result  to 
Providence." 

"  Ah,  no,  Mr.  Robbins  !  Who  ever  leaves  anything  of 
that  kind  to  Providence  without  himself  getting  left  ? 
Providence  is,  in  politics,  on  the  side  of  the  cleverest 
schemer,  or,  as  Napoleon  said,  'on  the  side  of  the  heaviest 
battalions.'  " 

"  The  triumph  of  the  wicked  is  in  itself  a  punishment," 
said  the  pastor,  with  professional  didacticism. 

"  Then  I  shouldn't  mind  being  punished  in  that  way, 
Mr.  Robbins.  I  am  hungering  for  success — of  some  kind. 
I  have  no  talent  for  obscurity.  You  have  preached  right- 
eousness to  me  so  long  that  I  am  beginning  to  rebel  a  little 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  63 

against  the  limitations  which  it  imposes.  Was  it  not 
Christ  himself  who  told  us  to  make  friends  with  the  Mam- 
mon of  Unrighteousness  ?" 

There  was  a  sudden  vibrating  cry  of  the  soul  in  these 
recklessly  uttered  words,  which  did  not  fail  to  impress  the 
clergyman.  He  put  away  his  cigar,  leaned  forward,  and 
looked  sympathetically  at  his  young  friend. 

"  Alexander,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  know  until  now  that 
you  were  in  earnest." 

"I  scarcely  knew  it  myself,  Mr.  Robbins,  but  the  fact  is, 
I  am  a  little  bit  heart-broken.  I  feel  wounded  and  hum- 
bled down  in  the  very  depths.  I  have  tried  to  live  con- 
sistently— in  accordance  with  .my  conviction — and  I  only 
succeed  in  getting  hopelessly  muddled  and  accomplishing 
nothing.  And  when  I  feel  sore  at  my  own  inconsistency 
and  incapacity,  then  Horace  comes  and  tells  me,  in  cut- 
ting sarcasms,  what  I  have  dreaded  but  not  dared  to  say  to 
myself.  And  that  breaks  me  all  up,  and  makes  me  miser- 
able." 

The  note  of  keen  youthful  distress,  with  its  unconscious 
emotional  luxury,  appealed  to  the  pastor's  tenderness  ; 
and  yet  it  made  him,  for  a  moment,  almost  envious.  There 
was  a  time  when  he,  too,  had  felt  like  that — oh,  so  long, 
long  ago.  He  threw  a  glance  into  the  mirror  at  his  iron- 
gray  hair,  and  sighed.  What  a  finely  attuned  instrument 
a  human  soul  must  be,  to  be  quivering  with  aspirations 
like  these  !  He  hungered  for  success — he  had  no  talent 
for  obscurity.  The  pastor  smiled.  He  remembered  the 
days  when  he,  too,  had  been  troubled  with  a  similar  re- 
pugnance. But  as  the  straight  and  narrow  path  to  emi- 
nence had  appeared  too  laborious,  he  had  striven  to  reach 
it  by  the  short  cut  of  a  wealthy  marriage.  And  like  most 
short  cuts  to  glory,  it  had  led  in  quite  an  unexpected  di- 
rection. He  was  so  fond  of  this  young  man  that  he  would, 
like,  if  he  could,  to  save  him  from  similar  errors. 

"  If  my  power  to  help  you  were  as  great  as  my  desire,'1 
he  said,  "  I  should  surely  not  send  you  away  uncomforted. 
But  it  seems  to  be  a  fact  that  a  certain  amount  of  bung- 
ling, and  fumbling,  and  blundering  is  not  only  necessary 
in  youth,  but,  within  certain  limits,  an  absolute  boon.  A 
correct  young  man  is  either  a  prig  or  a  fool.  A  youth 
who,  in  the  generous  tumult  of  his  blood,  commits  errors 
and  repents  of  them,  is  to  me  a  more  sympathetic  creat- 
ure. He  has  growth  in  him,  while  the  former  has  not. 
No  one  is  born  in  the  light.  Only  through  twilight  can 


64  THE  MAMMON1 

we  grope  our  way  to  clearness.  Only  through  doubt  can 
we  gain  certainty.  Only  through  combat  can  we  grow 
strong.  The  light,  as  far  as  each  individual  is  concerned, 
can  never  be  a  free  gift  from  on  high  ;  it  has  to  be  fought 
for  and  prayed  for.  A  certainty  that  has  never  known 
doubt  is  worthless,  like  a  fortress  that  has  never  been  ex- 
posed to  hostile  assault.  Strength  that  is  not  the  result  of 
struggle  is  not  strength,  but  pretentious  weakness.  It  is 
inevitable  that  you  should  fight  your  battles  now  and  make 
humiliating  experiences,  if  your  manhood  is  to  carry  out 
the  promise  of  your  youth  ;  and  even  if  your  plans  mis- 
carry, they  will  nevertheless  yield  you  a  profit  in  practical 
knowledge  of  life." 

"  Ah,  but,  my  dear  Mr.  Robbins,"  Aleck  exclaimed,  pas- 
sionately, "it  is  just  here  where  my  trouble  lies.  The  les- 
son that  these  experiences  teach  me  is  the  very  opposite  of 
what  you  have  taught  me.  It  is  that,  in  order  to  succeed, 
you  must  surrender  your  convictions,  prove  unfaithful  to 
your  ideals,  and  apply  a  code  of  morality  on  Monday 
quite  different  from  the  one  which  you  profess  on  Sunday. 
Now,  where  the  issue  is  clear — where  you  have  to  choose 
— what  would  you  do  ?  Give  up  success  or  surrender 
your  convictions  ?" 

"  But  I  cannot  admit  that  such  a  choice  is  necessary, 
except  in  very  rare  cases  ;  and  then  you  cannot  doubt 
what  my  advice  would  be." 

"If  you'll  pardon  me,  that  shows  that  your  own  experi- 
ence is  limited.  You  look  down  from  this  peaceful  study 
upon  the  slender  stream  of  life  that  flows  past  you.  And 
you  judge  by  that.  That's  where  clergymen,  in  my  opin- 
ion, are  at  a  disadvantage.  They  have  to  pilot  men 
through  waters  with  which  they  are  but  imperfectly  ac- 
quainted. They  know  whither  they  are  bound,  but  they 
have  no  reliable  chart  to  steer  by.  They  have  a  light  at 
the  masthead  which  throws  more  of  its  illumination  back- 
ward than  forward,  and  flashes  only  faint  gleams  down 
upon  the  unexplored  waters  about  the  bow." 

It  had  grown  late,  while  the  pastor  and  his  friend  had 
been  discussing  these  serious  problems,  and  Aleck  was 
interrupted  in  his  indictment  of  the  clergy  by  the  entrance 
of  a  chambermaid,  who  placed  a  bundle  of  letters  and 
newspapers  upon  the  table.  About  the  same  time  the 
door-bell  was  heard  to  ring  ;  the  maid  vanished,  and  on 
returning,  announced  Mr.  Horace  Larkin.  Mr.  Robbins, 
though  he  was  not  agreeably  surprised,  forced  his  features 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  65 

into  a  conventional  smile,  and  pressed  Horace's  hand  with 
proper  cordiality. 

"I  am  very  happy  to  see  you,  Mr.  Larkin,"  he  said; 
"will  you,  please,  be  seated." 

"  I  really  came  to  see  my  brother,  Mr.  Robbins,"  Horace 
replied,  without  polite  circumlocutions  ;  "  I  was  told  he 
was  here.  I  was  so  rough  with  him  this  morning,  that  it  is 
only  fair  that  I  should  be  the  first  to  tell  him  that  his  man 
is  elected,  without  doubt.  All  the  returns  are  not  in  yet, 
but,  though  he  has  been  largely  scratched,  he  is  yet  in  a 
fair  way  to  run  ahead  of  his  ticket." 

,     "  There,"  cried  the  parson,  delightedly;   "didn't  I  say 
it?     Righteousness  has  triumphed." 

"  No,"  retorted  Aleck,  dismally,  "  scheming  intimidation 
and  free  buggy  rides  have  triumphed.  Horace  is  the 
triumpher,  not  I." 

"Well,  whoever  it  be,  I  mean  to  celebrate  his  victory," 
said  Robbins,  pulling  a  bunch  of  keys  out  of  Jiis  pocket  ; 
"1  have  some  old  Madeira  of  '58  which  is  good  for  the 
blues.  For  you  know,  it  is  not  right  to  pour  new  wine 
into  old  vessels  like  you  and  me,  Mr.  Larkin,"  he  went 
on,  addressing  Horace.  "  You  know  what  Scripture 
says  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  latter  responded,  promptly.  "  It  is  not 
meet  to  put  new  wine  in  old  bottles,  lest — lest  they  turn 
and  rend  you." 

The  pastor  laughed  a  hushed  and  guilty  laugh,  but 
looked  in  the  next  moment  at  his  visitors  with  a  mildly 
reproving  air  in  which  there  yet  lingered  a  spark  of  amuse- 
ment. He  opened  a  small,  richly-carved  cabinet  of  teak- 
wood  which  hung  on  the  wall  above  the  low  book-cases 
and  brought  out  three  dainty  wine-glasses  and  a  yellovv- 
sealed  bottle,  the  dust  on  which  was  carefully  preserved. 
While  he  pulled  the  cork,  he  told  the  old  joke  about  the 
twenty  Episcopal  clergymen  who  at  a  social  gathering  got 
into  a  dispute  about  a  passage  in  Scripture  ;  but  not  one 
of  them  had  a  New  Testament  or  prayer  book  at  hand, 
whereby  to  verify  the  text.  When,  however,  there  hap- 
pened to  be  a  call  for  a  corkscrew,  everyone  of  the  twenty 
plunged  into  his  pocket,  and  hauled  out  the  required 
article. 

"  You  wouldn't  do  for  a  candidate  on  the  prohibition 
ticket,  parson,"  said  Horace,  as  he  gulped  down,  without 
visible  emotion,  the  precious  liquid. 

Mr.    Robbins    fairly   winced    at    s,uch   barbarism,    and 


66  THE  MAMMON 

thought:  "Another  time  I  shall  not  throw  pearls  before 
swine." 

"  No,  Mr.  Larkin,"  he  said,  aloud  ;  "  I  approve  of  good 
wine  and  disapprove  of  bad  wine." 

"Isn't  that  rather  a  pagan  creed  for  a  clergyman?" 
Horace  inquired,  in  a  spirit  of  pleasantry. 

The  remark  grated  a  little  on  the  pastor,  but  he  re- 
pressed his  irritation  and  answered,  soberly  : 

"  Life  must  have  a  certain  gloss,  to  me,  or  it  is  not 
worth  having.  You  cannot  set  up  the  same  standard  for 
all  men.  Frowsy  evangelical  poverty  would  never  do  for 
me  ;  I  should  sink  under  it  into  hopelessness  and  lethargy. 
I  should  lose  my  usefulness  ;  because  I  should  lose  my 
self-respect." 

Happily  Horace  was  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  an- 
swering by  the  opening  of  a  door  and  the  appearance  of  a 
piquant  blonde  head  between  the  folds  of  its  heavy  maroon 
curtains. 

"  What  a  horrid  lot  you  are  !  "  said  the  blonde  head, 
with  a  pretty  pout,  as  it  nodded  to  each  of  the  visitors  ; 
"  here  you  are  sitting  laughing  and  having  a  good  time, 
while  I  am  perishing  with  loneliness." 

"  Come  in,  dear,  come  in,  if  you  can  stand  the  cigar- 
smoke,"  said  Mr.  Robbins,  holding  out  his  arms  to  his  fa- 
vorite daughter.  He  had,  perhaps,  a  suspicion  as  to  whose 
voice  it  was  which  had  made  her  solitude  unendurable  ; 
but,  indulgent  as  he  was,  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  deny  her  any  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  the  smoke,"  ejaculated  the  girl, 
tripping  lightly  over  the  carpet  and  seating  herself  on  a 
footstool  at  her  father's  elbow. 

"Have  you  been  confessing  to  papa,  Mr.  Larkin  ?"  she 
said,  with  transparent  deceit,  lifting  her  languishing  face 
toward  Horace,  for  she  knew  well  enough  that  he  had  just 
arrived. 

"No,  he  has  been  confessing  to  me,"  he  replied,  "that 
pagan  luxury  agrees  better  with  him  than  evangelical  pov- 
erty." 

"  Has  he  confessed  that?  Why,  you  have  succeeded  in 
getting  into  his  confidence  better  than  I  ever  did.  I  have 
always  been  accusing  him  of  that  very  thing,  but  I  could 
never  make  him  own  up." 

"  That  is  because  he  was  afraid  you  would  make  him 
pay  too  heavy  a  penance — in  bonnets  and  things,"  answered 
Horace. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  6? 

"Bonnets  and  things!  Aren't  you  horrid?  You  evi- 
dently think  girls  have  no  thoughts  beyond  bonnets  and 
things !  " 

"  Perhaps  not.  But  then  you  know  things  may  embrace 
anything  you  like.  It  may  include  flirtations,  matrimony, 
novels,  and  moral  philosophy.  Or  what  do  you  think,  Mr. 
Robbins  ?  Are  you  in  favor  of  the  higher  education  of 
women  with  Greek  and  astronomy  and  German  philos- 
ophy? Do  you  like  the  soaring  kind  or — or " 

"Why  don't  you  say  the  boring  kind  ?" 

"All  right,"  interposed  Arabella,  "the  boring  kind,  if 
you  like  ?" 

"Oh,  I  am  an  old-fashioned  sort  of  man,"  Mr.  Robbins 
rejoined,  listlessly ;  "  I  don't  believe  in  going  too  far  in  any- 
thing. But  if  education  could  be  so  arranged  as  to  give 
more  elevation  to  the  thoughts  of  women — something 
beyond  flounces  and  trivialities " 

"  Why,  papa,  what  are  you  saying  ? "  his  daughter 
interrupted  ;  "  Don't  you  see,  you  are  on  my  side  against 
Mr.  Larkin " 

"  Oh,  am  I  ?  All  right  then — I  believe — I  believe  in 
whatever  my  daughter  believes  in — whatever  that  is." 

"  Now  that  is  worse  still.  Do  you  know,  gentlemen,  if  I 
was  clever  enough  what  I  would  do  ?  I  have  thought  of  it 
many  times,  but  never,  somehow,  had  the  courage  to  com- 
mence it.  I  have  thought  of  writing  a  play,  giving  the 
woman's  side  of  these  questions  that  everybody  is  writing 
about  nowadays.  I  mean  to  introduce  a  young  married 
couple  who  love  each  other  dearly " 

"  Oh,  that  would  never  do.  It  would  be  too  sensational," 
said  Horace. 

"Now,  Mr.  Larkin,  I  wish  you  would  just  behave," 
protested  Arabella,  in  a  staccato  whimper,  in  which  there 
was  more  coquetry  than  remonstrance.  The  spoiled  child 
was  visible  in  all  her  attitudes,  and  audible  in  her  inflec- 
tions, which  began  with  a  little  jerk  like  an  appoggiatura  in 
music. 

"  Well,  let  us  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that 
they  did  We  each  other  dearly,"  laughed  Horace.  "  What 
else  did  they  do  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Why,  they  must  have  had  some  other  occupation, 
surely,  besides  loving." 

"No,  they  didn't." 

She  was  now  really  half  offended;  and  without  looking 


68  THE  MAMMON 

up,  sat  playing  with  her  father's  fingers  which  rested  upon 
tlie  arm"  of  the  leather-covered  easy  chair. 

"Then  they  couldn't  have  made  much  of  a  living," 
Horace  observed,  dryly;  "for  loving,  unless  you  love  an 
heiress,  has  never  been  held  to  be  profitable." 

"  Look  here,  sir,''  cried  the  girl,  a  smile  breaking  through 
her  vexation  ;  "  I'm  not  going  to  waste  my  ideas  on  you 
any  more.  I'm  going  to  speak  to  your  brother.  He's 
much  more  agreeable." 

She  arose  from  her  footstool,  flounced  across  the  floor, 
and  with  ostentatious  friendliness  seated  herself  in  a  chair 
which  she  drew  close  up  to  Aleck's  side. 

"Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Aleck,"  she  began,  dramatically, 
glancing  toward  Horace  to  observe  the  effect  of  her 
manoeuvre,  "don't  you  think  your  brother  is  just  a  little 
bit— horrid?" 

"  Quite  a  good  bit,  I  should  say,"  replied  Aleck,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

"  You  bet  your  boots  on  that,"  the  subject  of  their 
criticism  interposed,  laughing  ;  "  when  a  girl  says  that  a 
man  is  horrid,  she  means  to  compliment  him.  I  consider 
that  I  have  points  about  me  that  money  can't  buy." 

"  What  a  happy  man  you  must  be  to  be  so  well  aware  of 
your  advantages ! "  exclaimed  Bella,  addressing,  in  spite  of 
her  resolution,  all  her  remarks  to  Horace. 

"  Well,  I  can't  complain  ;  though  I  should  be  happier  if 
I  were  President  of  the  United  States." 

"You  are  not  one  of  those  who  would  rather  be  right 
than  be  President,"  observed  Mr.  Robbins. 

"  Scarcely.  It  is  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  be  right  ;  but 
it  is,  in  my  opinion,  still  pleasanter  to  be  President." 

"  There  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Aleck,  gazing 
solemnly  through  his  cigar  smoke. 

"  You  are  not  an  expert,  Aleck,"  his  brother  replied ; 
"  you  have  never  tried  either." 

The  retort  was  meant  for  pleasantry,  of  course,  but  there 
was  that  lack  of  tact  and  fine  feeling  in  it  which  often 
wounds  without  intention.  The  opportunity  was  ill-chosen 
for  that  kind  of  banter,  when  Aleck  was  sore  with  disap- 
pointment and  bent  down  with  troubles  which  Horace's 
coarser  nature  was  incapable  of  comprehending. 

"  Have  another  cigar,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Mr.  Robbins, 
passing  across  the  table  a  fragrant  box,  from  the  cover  of 
which  a  Cuban  sefiorita  with  beau-catchers  was  archly 
smiling. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  69 

"  No,  thanks,"  they  both  answered,  and  rose  to  take  their 

leave. 

"Why,  don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  the  pastor  remonstrated, 
feebly  ;  "  I  didn't  mean  to  drive  you  away." 

"  You  don't.  We  flee  voluntarily  from  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  parson.  Good-night." 


7O  THE  MAMMON" 


CHAPTER  VIL 

TOWN  TALK. 

In  a  small  town,  where  nothing  of  any  consequence  ever 
happens,  talk  becomes  a  power,  and  in  a  certain  way  takes 
the  place  of  events.  What  people  say  appears  so  very  im- 
portant because,  outside  of  their  routine  of  business  and 
domestic  tasks,  they  do  nothing.  If  an  eccentric  man,  to 
relieve  the  monotony  of  life,  thrashes  his  wife,  he  becomes 
something  of  a  hero  ;  and  suns  himself  in  the  light  of  pub- 
licity. Though  his  act  is  not  commended,  it  is  so  hungrily, 
so  exhaustively,  discussed,  that  he  may  be  excused  if  his 
vanity  mistakes  notoriety  for  fame  and  objects  to  a  relapse 
into  the  obscurity  of  commonplace  behavior.  Nor  does 
he  lack  apologists  who,  in  the  corner  groceries,  declare  the 
rod  to  be  the  proper  exponent  of  domestic  authority,  and 
quote  Scripture  to  sustain  their  position.  The  other  bad 
characters  in  the  town  have  in  a  confused  way  the  same 
reckless  pride  in  furnishing  food  for  discussion.  The  town 
drunkards,  who  as  a  rule  have  large  families,  claim  the  ad- 
ditional merit  of  keeping  the  charitable  impulses  of  the 
people  in  activity. 

The  fact  was,  the  possibilities  of  doing  anything,  without 
transgressing,  were  limited  in  Torryville.  Once  in  a  while, 
when  a  second-rate  show  arrived,  all  that  part  of  the  popu- 
lation which  had  fifty  cents  to  spare  and  no  religious 
scruples  flocked  to  Tappan's  Opera  House,  and  watched 
the  primitive  performance  with  stolid  attention.  But  re- 
ligious scruples  were  quite  prevalent,  and  the  profits  of 
the  shows  were  never  very  encouraging.  Lecturers  and 
elocutionists  usually  rejoiced  in  a  better  reception  ;  and 
spiritualistic  mediums  often  stayed  for  weeks,  gave  seances 
in  private  houses  and  reaped  a  golden  harvest.  Several 
professors  in  the  university  were  known  to  be  interested 
in  spiritualism,  professing  to  investigate  the  phenomena  in 
a  purely  scientific  spirit.  But  their  claim  to  scientific  im- 
partiality was  vitiated  by  the  zeal  of  propagandism  which 
they  displayed,  and  their  readiness  to  be  deceived  by  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  Jl 

most  transparent  frauds.  It  was  particularly  Professor 
Wharton  who  discredited  himself  with  sober-minded  people 
by  championing  the  cases  of  every  medium  whose  tricks 
had  been  exposed.  One  or  more  of  these  persecuted  saints 
was  usually  entertained  at  his  house,  and  invitations  to 
seances  were  issued  in  his  name,  at  a  charge  of  fifty  cents, 
to  those  who  were  supposed  to  be  "  open  to  conviction." 
For  want  of  other  amusement  he  was  said  to  spend  long 
nights  with  mediums,  in  edifying  converse  with  Indian,  nau- 
tical, and  other  illiterate  ghosts,  who  slapped  and  caressed 
him  and  took  all  sorts  of  liberties  with  his  dignity.  Oc- 
casionally he  quarrelled  with  his  mediums  and  dispatched 
them  to  the  railroad  depot  at  short  notice ;  not  because  he 
saw  through  their  frauds,  but  because,  encouraged  by  his 
forbearance,  they  would  shock  him,  in  their  mundane 
capacity,  by  a  too  great  familiarity  or  freedom  of  man- 
ners. 

It  was  early  in  December,  about  four  weeks  after  the 
election,  that  the  younger  members  of  the  Larkin  family 
received  invitations,  at  the  usual  price,  to  attend  a  seance 
at  Professor  Wharton's  house.  The  old  man  it  would  have 
been  of  no  use  to  invite,  as  he  was  known  not  to  be  open 
to  conviction.  Horace  and  Alexander,  too,  were  more 
than  sceptical,  while  Gertrude  was  restrained  from  betray- 
ing her  credulity  by  the  fact  that  a  kind  of  dingy  disre- 
putability  was  associated  in  her  mind  with  the  very  name 
of  spiritualism.  Dr.  Hawk,  who  was  a  half-avowed  be- 
liever, had  told  her  so  many  wonderful  things  which 
he  had  seen,  and  which  it  was  useless  to  try  to  account 
for,  that  her  prejudice  was  conquered  and  her  curiosity 
aroused.  In  the  state  of  what  might  be  called  passionate 
vacuity,  in  which,  ever  since  her  return  from  school, 
she  had  found  herself,  anything  that  broke  the  monotony 
of  life  seemed  a  godsend.  Even  Professor  Ramsdale's 
perpetual  wooing,  inconvenient  though  it  was  at  times, 
had  a  faint  aroma  of  adventure  about  it  which  made  it 
'"  better  than  nothing."  A  proposal,  even  if  unacceptable, 
was  yet  an  event,  and  an  event,  in  Torryville,  of  whatever 
sort,  was  attended  with  some  excitement,  and  as  such  not 
to  be  discouraged.  Her  two  years'  sojourn  at  a  fashion- 
able school  in  New  York  had  ill  fitted  her  for  the  empty 
monotony  of  existence  in  her  home.  She  felt  a  deadly, 
ennui  which  oppressed  her  like  a  positive  burden.  Her 
father  and  her  mother  were  equally  uncongenial  to  her,  and 
her  two  cousins,  though  they  were  good  enough  in  their 


72  THE  MAMMON 

way,  troubled  themselves  very  little  about  her.  She  was 
unfortunately  so  constituted  that  she  could  do  nothing 
with  moderation.  When  she  took  a  fancy  to  read,  she 
shut  herself  up  in  her  room  from  morning  till  night,  had 
her  meals  sent  up  to  her,  and  devoured  book  after  book 
with  hungry  avidity.  Then  there  came  a  reaction,  during 
which  she  hated  books  and  could  not  bear  to  look  at 
one.  At  such  times,  she  rode  horseback  with  the  same 
immoderate  vehemence  which  she  had  formerly  expend- 
ed on  literature.  And  when  that  craze  was  over,  a  weary 
lethargy  followed,  and  the  demon,  called  the  Blues, 
knocked  at  her  door  and  became  her  constant  companion. 
In  the  midst  of  a  luxurious  life,  which  knew  no  ungratified 
want,  she  seemed  to  herself  the  most  miserable  of  beings. 
Her  education  had  given  her  a  smattering  of  knowledge 
in  all  directions,  but  it  had  given  her  no  real  interests.  It 
had  taught  her  to  bow  and  courtesy,  but  it  had  not  taught 
her  to  think  ;  it  had  drilled  her  in  all  the  arts  of  deport- 
ment— how  to  enter  and  leave  a  room,  how  to  grade  her 
greetings  with  admirable  precision,  all  the  way  from  cor- 
j  diality  to  a  snub  ;  but  it  had  furnished  no  intellectual 
|  contents  to  her  life,  which  might  give  it  purpose  and  dig- 
nity. At  times  a  passionate  hunger  for  pleasure  came  over 
her }  and  it  seemed  as  if  something  cried  out  within  her, 
""""Tttrf^elling  her  to  brush  aside  all  restraints.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was,  in  the  depth  of  her  soul,  a  respect 
for  the  conventions  which  she  thought  she  despised.  Filial 
affection  and  the  ties  of  blood  which  keep  so  many  turbu- 
lent natures  within  bounds  she  scarcely  knew,  and  of 
parental  guidance  she  had  had  none.  Mr.  Larkin  was  too 
busy  a  man  to  occupy  himself  with  her  ;  and,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  was  of  opinion  that  girls,  if  they  were  only  let 
alone,  would  be  likely  in  the  end  to  come  out  right  ;  and 
Mrs.  Larkin,  although  she  inclined  to  the  opposite  belief, 
was  only  repelled  by  Gertrude's  passionate  vacillation  ; 
and  her  constant  fretting  was  vexatious  rather  than  help- 
ful. The  only  pronounced  talent  which  the  girl  possessed 
and  which,  with  proper  cultivation,  might  have  become  a 
source  of  happiness,  was  discouraged  by  both,  and  became 
thereby  a  source  of  deeper  discontent.  From  her  earliest 
childhood  she  had  'had  a  taste  for  drawing ;  and  her  eye 
caught  with  unerring  instinct  the  characteristic  phase  of 
whatever  attracted  her  attention.  But  this  correct  eye 
invariably  condemned  what  her  untrained  hand  produced. 
Her  finest  intentions  her  obstinate  fingers  refused  to  carry 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  73 

out.  She  drew  with  a  certain  bold  inaccuracy  and  dash 
which  were  wholly  unfeminine,  but  there  was  a  taking 
quality  in  these  rough  sketches  and  that  indefinable  charm 
of  touch  that  distinguishes  the  artist  from  the  dilettante. 
When  the  blues  came  upon  her,  like  a  shower  that  sudden- 
ly sweeps  across  a  clear  sky,  the  first  thing  she  destroyed 
was  always  her  sketch-book.  She  tore  out  each  separate 
leaf  with  fierce  satisfaction,  and  saw  it  cuVl  in  the  grate  in 
fiery  torture,  then  glow  and  quiver,  until  the  draught 
caught  it  and  hurried  its  ashes  up  the  chimney. 

She  went  through  with  this  process  three  or  four  times 
a  year,  and  felt  after  each  auto  da  fc  a  desolation  which 
was  terrible.  It  seemed  to  herself  that  she  could  have 
wept  blood  ;  as  if  her  whole  life  stretched  out  before  her 
in  long,  barren  vistas,  unrelieved  by  a  single  gleam  of  joy. 
But  so  curiously  complex  is  our  nature  in  youth,  that  this 
very  despair  was,  in  a  way,  its  own  consolation.  There 
was  something  in  it  which  gratified  her  pride  and  appealed 
to  her  sense  of  the  picturesque.  She  was  not  insincere  ; 
nor  was  she  coquetting  with  unreal  woes.  But  she  main- 
tained that  defiant  erectness  which  was  characteristic  of 
her,  even  in  her  misery ;  she  had  a  feeling  of  being  an 
exceptional  creature,  because  she  had  such  exceptional 
sorrows.  If  she  was  not  like  other  girls,  it  was  because 
other  girls  were  so  far  below  her.  She  envied  them,  and 
yet  would  not  have  been  one  of  them. 

It  was  in  her  eighteenth  year  that  Gertrude  woke  up  one 
morning  with  a  kind  of  creative  itching  and  tingling  in 
her  brain,  as  if  she  must  do  something  or  perish.  She  got 
out  of  bed  and  dressed  in  a  misty  tumult,  brimming  over 
with  a  sense  of  dim  energy  which  made  her  happy  and 
miserable  by  turns,  but  would  not  leave  her  in  peace. 
The  desire  possessed  her,  she  could  not  tell  why,  to  fash- 
ion something  with  her  hands — something  grand  and 
beautiful — she  did  not  know  what.  She  had  seen  sev- 
eral statues  in  New  York,  both  in  plaster  and  in  marble, 
and  she  had  surreptitiously  taken  a  few  lessons  in  a  sculp- 
tor's studio.  But  the  thought  of  emulating  him  in  his  art 
had  not  then  occurred  to  her.  It  seemed  such  an  easy 
thing  to  do — merely  to  fashion  your  thoughts  in  such  a 
pliable  substance  as  clay,  with  your  fingers  and  a  couple  of 
modelling  sticks.  While  yet  aglow  with  this  desire,  she 
improvised,  with  the  aid  of  Tom,  Mr.  Larkin's  stableman, 
a  studio  at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  for  a  week  shut  her- 
self up,  taking  her  meals  in  her  room.  The  family  were 


74  THE  MAMMON 

so  well  accustomed  to  such  caprices  on  her  part  that  no 
one  marvelled  ;  and  when  Mr.  Lark  in  occasionally  asked 
what  had  become  of  her,  the  answer  that  she  was  not 
well  seemed  to  call  for  no  further  inquiry. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  Gertrude  managed  to  lead  an 
agitated  life  in  the  midst  of  the  general  monotony.  She 
led  a  life  of  her  own,  though  not  a  happy  one.  Her 
original  nature  and  her  vigorous  blood  impelled  her  to  re- 
bel against  her  lot,  and  to  grope  in  eager  uncertainty  for 
something  to  lift  her  thought  and  fill  her  empty  ex- 
istence. She  had  found  something,  at  last,  which,  for 
the  time,  filled  her  with  satisfaction  ;  but  even  while,  in 
a  happy  intoxication,  she  was  working  away,  shaping, 
changing,  and  reshaping,  she  was  half  conscious  that  she 
was  only  the  victim  of  some  new  delusion.  She  feared 
contact  with  her  wonted  surroundings,  lest  she  should 
discover  that  she  had  again  deceived  herself.  The  stimu- 
lus of  an  artificial  excitement  enabled  her,  as  it  were,  to 
inhabit  only  the  upper  stories  of  her  mind,  and  kept  her 
from  descending  to  the  ground  floor  where  sobering 
criticism  dwells.  It  was  Dr.  Hawk's  note,  offering  her 
his  escort  to  the  seance,  which  finally  compelled  her  to 
make  the  descent ;  and  she  was  by  no  means  grateful  to 
him  for  it.  She  felt  like  a  bat  that  had  tumbled  out  into 
the  sunlight ;  like  a  reveller  who  wakes  in  the  glare  of 
day  in  the  empty  banqueting  hall.  Dr.  Hawk  seemed  as 
indifferent  to  her,  in  this  moment,  as  if  he  had  fallen  from 
the  moon.  Everything  seemed  pale  and  dreary  and  in- 
significant. But  since  the  spell  was  once  broken  and  she 
had  to  face  another  period  of  desolation,  she  might  just 
as  well  put  up  with  Dr.  Hawk  as  with  anyone  else.  He 
had,  at  all  events,  the  merit  of  being  unusual,  and  some- 
times entertaining. 

What,  above  all  things,  made  Dr.  Hawk  interesting 
was  the  fact  that  he  had  a  history,  or  was  suspected  of 
having  one.  He  had  come  to  the  university  some  eight 
or  ten  years  ago,  and  had  struck  up  a  great  friendship 
with  Aleck  Larkin.  He  was  then  a  slender  and  round- 
shouldered  youth  with  large  black  eyes  and  a  sallow  com- 
plexion. Though  he  scarcely  had  any  money,  he  dressed 
with  care,  and  always  managed  to  look  striking  in  his 
threadbare  habiliments.  The  attention  he  bestowed  upon 
his  appearance,  and  particularly  his  picturesquely  tum- 
bled hair  made  him  the  butt  of  the  undergraduates, 
and  there  was  scarcely  a  week  that  the  student  papers  did 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  75 

not  contain  some  gibe  at  him.  It  had  been  the  fashion  in 
the  earlier  days  of  the  university  rather  to  affect  rough- 
ness, in  deference  to  the  majority,  to  whom  it  came  with- 
out affectation.  Nothing  was  more  unpopular  than  "  put- 
ting on  airs,"  and  Archibald  Hawk,  who  was  adjudged 
guilty  of  this  offence,  acquired  the  reputation  of  being 
everything  that  was  objectionable.  He  was  a  hard  stu- 
dent, and  yet  failed  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  majority  of 
the  instructors,  although  Professor  Dowd  was  known  to 
expect  great  things  of  him.  In  the  class  rooms,  his  an- 
swers, which  were  always  out  of  the  common  run,  were 
often  greeted  with  derisive  laughter.  There  was  an  effort 
at  originality  in  them  which  made  them  seem  forced. 
The  professors,  who  were  themselves  mostly  common- 
place men,  failed  to  see  anything  but  vanity  in  them,  and 
secretly  sympathized  with  the  undergraduate  view  of 
their  author. 

It  was  in  the  second  year  of  their  college  life  that 
Aleck  Larkin,  whose  generous  nature  was  shocked  at  the 
maltreatment  of  Hawk,  began  to  champion  him  ;  and  from 
that  time  forth  his  martyrdom  was  at  an  end.  He  blos- 
somed out  in  the  literary  societies  as  an  orator  of  a  high 
order  ;  and  though  it  was  not  always  easy  to  decide  what 
he  was  talking  about,  he  enjoyed  a  certain  degree  of  con- 
sideration. But  it  was  in  a  congenial  tcte-a-tete  that  he  was 
at  his  best.  Then  clever  fancies  and  surprising  ideas  rose 
spontaneously  to  his  lips,  like  the  bubbles  in  a  champagne 
glass.  Only  a  little  sympathetic  shake  was  needed  to 
start  them,  and  they  bubbled  on  delightfully.  He  could 
sit  for  hours  in  Aleck's  room  and  rhapsodize  about  sci- 
ence, and  poetry,  and  religion ;  and  Aleck,  to  whom  un- 
usual ideas  were  always  welcome,  feasted  on  his  eloquence 
and  rewarded  him  with  the  heartiest  admiration.  After 
his  graduation  Hawk  went  to  New  York  to  study  medi- 
cine, and  thence  to  Vienna.  How  he  managed  to  support 
himself  during  these  years  was  a  mystery  to  his  friends, 
and  a  legend  gained  currency  that  he  had  engaged  him- 
self, in  his  boyhood,  to  a  young  girl  who  had  a  little 
money,  and  that  he  had  speculated  in  her  devotion  with  a 
strict  eye  to  his  own  advantage.  That  she  was  unculti- 
vated and  unattractive,  but  desperately  fond  of  him,  fol- 
lowed, as  a  matter  of  course,  and  that  he  remained  reluct- 
antly faithful,  for  fear  of  an  expost,  seemed  also  in  keep- 
ing with  the  situation.  What  made  his  dilemma  still  more 
tragic  was  the  surmise  (based  upon  some  sort  of  shadowy 


76  THE  MAMMON 

evidence),  that  he  had,  during  his  European  sojourn, 
fallen  in  love  with  an  exalted  lady,  whose  rank  was  an 
obstacle  to  passionate  avowals.  Another  conjecture  was 
that  he  had  committed  some  interesting  indiscretion,  and 
was  now  suffering  from  remorse. 

However  that  may  have  been,  it  was  obvious  that  he 
was  suffering  from  something.  His  large  dark  eyes  looked 
as  if  they  hid  a  sad  secret,  and  it  was  impossible  to  talk 
long  with  him  without  wondering  what  this  secret  might 
be.  To  young  ladies  particularly,  his  vague,  sad  smile 
was  tantalizing,  suggesting  all  sorts  of  clues,  but  furnish- 
ing none.  To  Arabella  Robbins,  who,  under  the  stimulus 
of  a  torturing  curiosity,  had  ventured  to  banter  him  on 
his  mysterious  sorrow,  he  said  with  a  sigh  of  dolorous 
reminiscence  : 

"  My  dear  child,  if  there  is  one  thing  your  sex  is  incapa- 
ble of  comprehending,  it  is  its  own  power  for  mischief." 

That  was  a  concession,  at  least,  that  there  was  a  woman 
in  the  case  ;  but,  in  other  respects,  left  the  field  of  conject- 
ure as  wide  as  before. 

It  was  his  friendship  for  Aleck  Larkin  which  was 
understood  to  have  induced  Hawk  to  return  to  Torryville. 
When,  during  his  stay  in  Vienna,  his  resources  (whatever 
they  were)  had  failed  him,  Aleck  had  induced  his  uncle 
to  advance  him  a  loan  ;  and  when  his  studies  were  at  an 
end,  he  was  nothing  loath  to  accept  his  friend's  advice 
and  begin  his  professional  career  in  Torryville. 

He  counted  upon  the  Larkin  influence  to  bring  him 
into  vogue,  and  in  this  he  was  not  disappointed.  Mr. 
Larkin,  to  be  sure,  could  not  be  induced  to  dismiss  his 
old  leech,  Dr.  Sawyer,  who  wore  no  necktie,  and  pre- 
scribed quinine  for  all  ailments  that  Torryville  was  heir 
to;  but  Mrs.  Larkin  submitted  the  whole  list  of  her  ail- 
ments to  Dr.  Hawk,  and  found  him  very  sympathetic.  He 
treated  all  her  symptoms  with  respect,  and  discussed  them 
with  professional  gravity.  Mrs.  Larkin  had  not,  during 
her  entire  life,  known  the  luxury  of  such  tender  and  con- 
siderate treatment.  She  longed  for  the  doctor's  visits, 
and  sent  for  him  whenever  she  sneezed,  as  her  husband 
humorously  averrjsd.  Other  ladies  followed  her  example, 
and  Hawk  soon  rejoiced  in  the  reputation  of  being  the 
ladies'  doctor, par  excellence.  As  he  was  not  "  a  man's  man," 
so  no  more  was  he  professionally  agreeable  to  the  male 
sufferers  of  Torryville,  who  demanded  an  explicit  diag- 
nosis with  a  name,  strong  remedies,  and  quick  recoveries. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A    HISTRIONIC    WOOER. 

When  Dr.  Hawk,  on  the  evening  of  the  stance,  sauntered 
down  Elm  Street  toward  the  Larkin  mansion,  he  did  not 
immediately  enter.  He  remained  outside  in  the  twilight 
for  some  minutes,  and  stood  gazing  up  at  the  dusky  fa- 
yade  of  the  house  as  if  he  were  appraising  its  value.  It 
was  a  large,  square,  unpretentious-looking  brick  building, 
painted  a  light  shite-color,  with  bulging  bow  windows,  and 
a  flat  roof.  It  had  once  impressed  the  doctor  as  a  wonder 
of  magnificence,  but  since  his  return  from  Europe  he  had 
a  conviction  that  its  style  was  bad.  For  all  that,  it  repre- 
sented a  good  deal  of  money,  and  that  was  always  impres- 
sive. 

"Rather  a  comfortable  box,"  Hawk  remarked  to  himself, 
as  he  mounted  the  steps  and  rang  the  door-bell. 

A  servant  girl  admitted  him  into  the  spacious  hall,  the 
floor  of  which  was  carpeted,  and  the  walls  painted  a  yel- 
lowish gray,  marbled,  and  divided  into  geometrical  squares. 
There  was  a  table  for  the  reception  of  hats  and  overcoats, 
and  above  it  hung  portraits  of  the  Father  of  his  Country 
and  his  spouse.  A  wide  staircase  led  up  to  the  second 
floor,  and  a  door  in  the  rear  afforded  an  exit  into  the  yard. 
A  distinct  atmosphere  of  homely  comfort  and  patriotism 
pervaded  the  house.  Crude  likenesses  in  oil  of  Grant, 
Seward,  Stanton,  and  Sumner  asserted  the  latter  quality, 
while  the  former  was  a  combined  impression  of  spacious- 
ness, pleasant  temperature,  and  absence  of  display.  The 
first  objects  which  met  the  doctor's  eye,  as  he  entered 
the  parlor,  were  Rogers's  group  of  Beecher,  Garrison,  and 
Whittier,  which  stood  upon  a  marble-top  table  at  the  win- 
dow, and  a  mediocre  copy  of  Carpenter's  picture  of  Lin- 
coln and  his  Cabinet,  which  hung  over  the  piano.  The 
furniture  (which  had  not  the  faintest  touch  of  aestheticism) 
was  of  black  walnut,  upholstered  in  red  rep.  The  window 
curtains  were  of  the  same  color,  and  apparently  of  the 
same  material,  but  they  were  much  faded  where  they  had 


78  THE  MAMMON 

been  exposed  to  the  light.  The  walls  were  plastered  and 
painted  gray,  with  long  bars  and  scrolls  of  a  vaguely  dec- 
orative intent  in  the  corners.  On  the  mantel-piece,  which 
was  of  marble  and  glaringly  white,  a  severe-looking  black 
clock,  representing  the  portico  of  a  Greek  temple,  was  tick- 
ing demurely,  and  on  each  side  of  it  was  a  large  bouquet 
of  wax  flowers  under  a  glass  bell. 

Dr.  Hawk,  from  the  height  of  his  foreign  experience, 
was  regarding  these  objects  with  compassionate  contempt, 
and  was  imagining  the  tactics  he  would  employ  to  get 
them  removed,  when  he  should  have  gained  an  intimacy 
in  the  house  which  entitled  him  to  be  critical.  He  had 
almost  made  up  his  mind  how  to  set  about  it,  when  a  faint 
sweet  odor  and  a  heralding  rustle  from  the  other  end  of 
the  room  gave  another  turn  to  his  fancies.  Fie  arose  and 
bowed  with  that  foreign  flourish  of  manner  which  he  often 
assumed  where  he  thought  it  would  impress.  Gertrude 
returned  his  greeting  with  an  indifference  which  a  weary 
smile  prevented  from  being  impolite. 

Dr.  Hawk,  in  cases  of  abnormal  behavior  in  his  patients, 
was  apt  to  take  a  pathological  view  and  refuse  to  be  of- 
fended. But  Gertrude  had  always  declined  to  recognize 
him  in  any  but  his  private  capacity,  and  was  disposed  to 
repel  his  medical  solicitude  as  an  impertinence. 

"Miss  Gertrude,"  he  said,  fixing  his  sad  and  tender  gaze 
upon  her  countenance,  "you  have  been  cruel  indeed." 

He  disliked  so  much  saying  what  was  expected  of  him, 
that  he  often  omitted  to  say  "  Good-morning,"  or  "  Good- 
evening." 

"  Cruel  ? "  repeated  Gertrude  ;  "  how  have  I  been  cruel  ? " 

"You  might  have  the  generosity  to  comprehend  without 
compelling  one  to  be  explicit,"  said  Hawk,  in  his  clear, 
vibrant  bass. 

"  I  would  if  I  could,"  the  girl  replied  with  a  little  more 
animation  ;  "but  I  fear,  doctor,  you  overrate  my  power  of 
intuition." 

'*  True  genius  and  true  woman  !   .  Dost  deny 
Thy  woman's  nature  with  a  manly  scorn  ?  " 

he  quoted,  rather  aimlessly,  from  his  favorite  poet,  Mrs. 
Browning.  He  did  not  discover  until  it  was  too  late 
that  the  verse  did  not  apply  to  Gertrude's  case. 

"Let  us  be  sensible,  doctor,  and  talk  prose,"  she  said,  in 
a  vain  effort  to  comprehend.  "  If  I  were  what  you  say,  I 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  79 

should  not  be  so  disheartened  and  miserable  at  my  incom- 
petency  as  I  am  to-day." 

*'  Your  incompetency — at  what  ? " 

"At  everything  I  undertake." 

"  But  if  you  were  commonplace — like  all  the  rest — you 
would  undertake  nothing.  You  would  be  vulgarly  content 
with  vulgar  inanities." 

"  Vulgarly  content  with  vulgar  inanities.  I  must  re- 
member that,"  ejaculated  Gertrude.  "  It  is  a  very  consol- 
ing phrase  for  one  who,  like  me,  is  inclined  to  discontent." 

"  Discontent  is  the  Promethean  spark  in  the  human 
breast,"  the  doctor  sententiously  rejoined  ;  "  if  it  were  not 
for  it  we  should  all  be  howling  savages  to-day,  instead  of 
civilized  beings." 

"  Then  the  blues  must  be  highly  civilizing,  and  the  bluer 
we  are  the  better." 

"  That  is  perhaps  a  little  paradoxically  stated.  But  it 
is  plain  that  the  contented  man  is  conservative  and  invents 
nothing.  It  was  the  savage  who  was  discontented  with  the 
flint  axe  who  dug  for  iron  and  paved  the  way  for  the  steam- 
engine.  It  was  the  men  who  were  dissatisfied  with  mon- 
archy who  invented  the  republic." 

"  But  those  who  are  dissatisfied  with  the  republic,  what 
are  they  to  do  ? " 

"  They  will  have  to  wait  for  the  millennium — and  work 
for  it." 

"  Dear  me  !  That'll  be  a  long  work.  I  feel  already  the 
gray  hairs  sprouting." 

"  Give  them  to  me,  and  let  me  keep  them  as  a  souvenir 
of  your  divine  discontent." 

"  Divine  discontent  !  I  am  obliged  for  that  phrase,  too, 
doctor.  It  is  a  charming  phrase.  It's  worth  more  than 
a  lock  of  gray  hair.  But  the  seance — [  had  nearly  forgotten 
it.  It's  time  we  were  off." 

She  arose  full  of  animation  and  moved  toward  the  door. 
It  was  marvellous  how  this  man,  even  when  she  had  deter- 
mined to  be  disagreeable  to  him,  tuned  her  up  and  restored 
her  self-respect.  She  took  his  arm  as  they  descended  the 
steps,  and  felt  his  appealing  eyes  resting  sadly  upon  her  in 
the  dusk.  A  strange  feeling  rippled  down  her  back — she 
scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  a  thrill  or  a  shiver.  Why 
did  she  distrust  him  ?  Was  it  not  an  unreasoning  preju- 
dice which  impelled  her  to  treat  him  as  she  did  ?  What 
had  he  ever  done  to  merit  her  displeasure,  except  to  pay 
her  rather  audacious  compliments,  which  might,  perhnps, 


8O  THE  MAMMON 

be  more  sincerely  meant  than  she  suspected  ?  To  look 
upon  him  in  the  light  of  a  potential  lover  was,  of  course, 
out  of  the  question,  as  it  was  a  well-known  fact  that  he 
was  by  duty,  if  not  by  love,  bound  to  another.  There  was 
such  a  sense  of  security  in  this  knowledge  that  she  might, 
without  danger  to  her  own  peace  of  mind,  take  pity  on 
his  remorse  and  console  him  with  sympathy  and  kindness. 

A  strange  tremulousness  came  over  her,  as  she  began  to 
meditate  the  possibilities  of  the  situation.  She  shivered 
repeatedly,  and  before  she  had  walked  far,  a  curious  light- 
headedness  made  her  fearful  to  open  her  lips  ;  while  at 
the  same  time  a  leaden  weight  oppressed  her  chest  and 
momentarily  impeded  her  breathing. 

"You  are  not  well,  Miss  Gertrude,"  cried  Hawk,  stop- 
ping and  firmly  seizing  her  wrist. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing,"  she  replied,  with  forced  lightness. 
"  I  have  been  shutting  myself  up  too  much  of  late,  I  fear, 
and  taken  too  little  exercise." 

"  Don't  you  wish  me  to  take  you  home  ?" 

"No,  thank  you.     It'll  be  over  in  a  minute." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  8 1 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BETWEEN  LIFE  AND  DEATH. 

When  Dr.  Hawk,  on  the  following  morning,  called  to  in- 
quire about  Miss  Gertrude's  health,  he  was  informed  by 
Mrs.  Larkin  that  "she  guessed  she  was  all  right  ;  but  she 
hadn't  got  out  of  bed  yet.  She's  a  queer  girl,"  Mrs.  Larkin 
continued,  "  and  you  can  never  tell  about  her  whether  she's 
well  or  sick.  But  I'm  glad  you  called,  doctor,  for  I  ain't 
feeling  particularly  scrumptious  myself  to-day/' 

Whereupon  Hawk  was  regaled  with  a  long  and  detailed 
account  of  Mrs.  Larkin's  ailments. 

His  uneasy  conscience  impelled  him  to  repeat  the  call 
in  the  afternoon  and  the  following  morning  ;  but  Mrs. 
Larkin  attributed  each  time  his  presence  to  solicitude  for 
her  own  health,  and  repeated  the  story  of  her  curious 
symptoms.  She  had  not  seen  Gertrude  since  the  day  of 
the  stance,  but  she  felt  confident  that  she  was  all  right, 
though  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  to  inquire. 

"  She  often  takes  a  notion  to  stay  in  bed  for  days  to- 
gether," she  said,  in  her  usual  plaintive  accents  ;  "  but  if  we 
was  to  bother  about  that  we  shouldn't  get  much  else  done 
in  this  family.  She's  a  headstrong  and  cantankerous  girl, 
and  it's  past  finding  out  what  she'll  take  into  her  head  to 
do  next." 

Mrs.  Larkin  had  always,  on  general  principles,  disap- 
proved of  Hawk's  attentions  to  Gertrude,  not  because  she 
looked  upon  him  as  an  undesirable  son-in-law,  but  because 
she  could  not  comprehend  how  anybody  could  find  Ger- 
trude attractive.  A  little  unconscious  jealousy  also  min- 
gled in  her  disparagement  of  her  adopted  daughter,  and 
her  calm  appropriation  of  her  admirers,  when  they  came 
to  pay  court  to  her,  was  perhaps  ascribable  to  the  same 
source.  Dr.  Hawk,  to  whom  Mrs.  Larkin's  favor  was  worth 
a  thousand  or  more  a  year,  did  not  therefore  dare  to  be- 
tray his  predilection.  He  timed,  however,  his  next  visit 
so  as  to  avoid  meeting  the  elder  la^y,  and  by  interesting 

6, 


82  THE  MAMMON 

Aleck  in  his  errand  gained  the  intelligence  that  Gertrude 
was  lying  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  and  that  apparently  she  was 
not  at  all  well.  He  then  demanded  admission  to  her  bed- 
room in  his  professional  capacity,  and  Aleck,  in  the  absence 
of  any  other  authority,  took  the  responsibility  of  admit- 
ting him.  Nettie,  the  chambermaid,  conducted  him  up  to 
the  second  floor  and  ushered  him  into  a  large,  high-ceiled 
room,  the  furniture  of  which  was  covered  with  crayon 
boxes,  half-finished  drawings,  sketch-books,  and  articles  of 
feminine  apparel.  On  the  sofa  a  white  starched  skirt  was 
lying  in  friendly  proximity  to  a  box  of  charcoal;  on  the 
pegs  of  an  easel  which  stood  in  front  of  the  north  win- 
dow, hung  a  big  Gainsborough  hat,  a  corset,  and  bonnet  ; 
shoes  of  various  descriptions  were  lying  about  the  floor, 
as  if  they  had  been  tried  and  kicked  off  in  disgust.  A 
couple  of  reduced  antiques  in  plaster  struck  superb  atti- 
tudes upon  the  mantel-piece  and  tables,  and  half-finished 
crayon  and  charcoal  repetitions  of  them,  from  many 
points  of  view,  were  nailed  with  tacks  to  the  walls.  A  paper 
shade,  which  could  be  rolled  from  below  upward,  regu- 
lated the  light  from  the  large  western  window  ;  and  the 
afternoon  sun,  which  made  it  half  translucent,  showed  the 
bold  fragments  of  arms  and  legs  and  experimental  physi- 
ognomies with  which  it  was  covered. 

Dr.  Hawk  gained  a  distinct  impression  of  the  uncon- 
ventionality  of  this  curious  boudoir,  as  he  approached  the 
bed,  where  Gertrude  lay  in  feverish,  uneasy  slumber. 
Her  face  was  flushed,  and  there  was  a  distressed  expres- 
sion in  the  frown  upon  her  brow,  and  the  strained  lines 
about  her  mouth. 

"  I  reckon  she  ain't  quite  right  in  her  head,"  observed 
the  maid,  who  remained  standing  at  the  door.  "She  took 
on  mighty  hard  last  night,  talkin'  and  cryin'  and  makin'  a 
big  racket." 

"And  did  you  tell  the  family  that  she  was  ill  ?"  asked 
the  doctor,  sternly. 

"No.  She's  sorter  queer  most  of  the  time,  and  the  fam- 
ily don't  bother  much  about  her." 

"  Yes,  blood  is  thicker  than  water,"  murmured  Hawk, 
half  to  himself ;  and  yet  it  seemed  odd  to  him  that  a  girl 
so  beautiful  as  Gertrude  and  so  well  endowed  could  be  of 
such  small  consequence  in  her  own  home.  He  looked  at 
her  for  some  minutes  with  a  wholly  unprofessional  glance, 
and  wondered  where  she  got  those  large,  Titianic  lines — 
that  splendid  throat — those  stately  shoulders.  He  took 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  83 

hold  of  her  hand,  which  was  large  and  of  noble  shape 
with  long,  supple  fingers  ;  he  could  not  help  feeling  that 
the  pulse  beat  with  abnormal  speed  within  it,  but  he 
staved  off  all  medical  reflections  until  he  had  filled  him- 
self with  the  impression  of  her  loveliness.  It  was  unpro- 
fessional conduct,  as  he  well  knew,  but  after  all,  even  a 
doctor  was  a  man  first,  and  only  secondarily  a  physi- 
cian. 

"Where  the  deuce  does  she  hail  from?"  muttered  he,  - 
staring  at  her  flushed  features,  as  if  endeavoring  to  read 
in  them  the  riddle  of  her  birth.  "  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  be- 
lieve that  story  about  the  orphan  asylum.  One  doesn't 
pick  up  that  kind  of  specimens  in  orphan  asylums.  She 
was  born  to  the  purple  and  in  some  way  defrauded  of  it," 
he  continued,  mentally  ;  "  that  is  unless  her  mouth  and  her 
chin  and  her  eyes  and  every  instinct  of  her  nature  have 
entered  into  a  conspiracy  to  lie." 

It  struck  him  in  the  midst  of  his  meditations  that  he 
was,  perhaps,  taking  an  unfair  advantage,  in  thus  peering 
into  a  young  girl's  soul  through  the  transparent  mask  of 
her  unconscious  face.  But  this  thought  did  not  greatly 
trouble  him  ;  he  was  more  of  an  sesthetician  than  a  mor- 
alist The  maid's  presence,  however,  began  to  arouse  his 
torpid  conscience.  He  beckoned  her  to  come  nearer, 
and  addressed  to  her  a  series  of  professional  questions  ; 
then  wrote  a  couple  of  prescriptions  and  begged  her  to 
hurry  to  the  apothecary  and  return  with  the  medicines. 
Having  made  this  concession  to  duty,  he  pulled  an  easy 
chair  up  to  the  bed  and  became  once  more  absorbed  in 
genealogical  conjectures.  The  groping,  undirected  artis- 
tic instinct  which  revealed  itself  in  the  chaotic  adorn- 
ments of  the  room — the  perpetual  start  toward  something 
acutely  felt,  but  never  attained — suggested  a  soul-history 
full  of  pathetic  incidents.  Discouragement— disgust  at 
recurrent  failures — passionate  vacillations  between  all  ex- 
tremes of  feeling — could,  by  the  aid  of  a  little  ingenuity, 
be  read  in  the  fragmentary  sketches  of  limbs,  heads,  tor- 
sos, and  landscapes.  "But  such  aspirations  must  have 
an  ancestry  of  some  sort,"  Hawk  reflected  ;  "  they  do  not 
start  out  of  the  ground  like  toadstools." 

He  let  his  glance  roam  slowly  about  the  room,  and  by 
the  time  it  returned  to  the  bed  it  met  that  of  his  patient, 
staring  at  him  with  a  puzzled  frown,  as  if  she  was  trying 
to  determine  whether  he  might  not,  after  all,  be  a  mere 
fever  vision. 


84  THE  MAMMON 

"I  am  sorry  to  see  that  you  are  ill,  Miss  Gertrude,''  he 
said,  in  as  solemn  a  tone  as  he  had  at  his  command.  She 
rubbed  her  eyes,  first  with  one  hand  then  with  the  other; 
but  did  not  answer. 

"  I  took  the  liberty  to  admire  your  artistic  efforts,"  he 
went  on,  a  trifle  embarrassed.  The  discovery  that  he  had 
been  stared  at,  he  did  not  know  how  long,  annoyed  him  ; 
it  gave  him  a  sensation  of  having  been  surprised  in  un- 
dress. It  required  always  a  moment's  preparation  to  com- 
pose his  face  into  its  tragic  folds. 

"Am  I  very  ill,  doctor,"  she  asked,  after  a  pause,  during 
which  she  had  convinced  herself  of  his  reality. 

"I  cannot  tell  yet.     Your  pulse  is  130." 

"Is  that  much  or  little  ?" 

"It  is  a  good  deal  more  than  it  ought  to  be." 

"Then  you  think  I  am  going  to  die  ?" 

"  Not  at  present." 

"  You  needn't  spare  me.     I  don't  care." 

"My  dear  Miss  Gertie,  you  know  I  do  not  believe  in 
death.  When  a  person's  time  comes,  he  merely  passes 
out  of  the  body — the  soul,  which  is  he,  moves  into  another 
house " 

"  Well,"  she  interposed,  impatiently  ;  "  don't  you  think 
I  am  going  to  pass  out — move  into  another  house  ?" 

"  Not  until  you  have  seen  a  good  deal  more  of  life  than 
you  have  yet." 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  to  see  a  great  deal  more.  What  I 
have  seen  has  not  been  particularly  pleasant." 

He  noticed  an  hysterical  quivering  of  her  lips  and  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"You  mustn't  talk,"  he  said.  "You  are  weak  from  the 
fever.  I'll  give  you  something  to  .reduce  your  tempera- 
ture." 

"  I  will  talk,"  she  answered,  with  determination.  "Who 
cares  whether  I  live  or  die  ? " 

"  I  care,  for  one." 

She  looked  at  him  with  large,  solemn  eyes. 

"Ah,  life,  life,  life  ! "  she  sighed. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

"Because  I  sometimes  suspect  that  you  are  a  great  hum- 
bug," she  answered,  gravely. 

He  gave  a  start  at  her  words  and  gazed  back  at  her  with 
a  sad,  reproachful  glance. 

"  I  know  you  are  not  accountable  for  what  you  say  in 
your  present  condition,"  he  murmured. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  85 

She  lay  for  a  while  breathing  heavily  and  staring  vaguely 
at  the  ceiling. 

4i  Why  do  you  live  here,  anyway  ? "  she  asked,  abruptly. 

"  I  have  to  live  somewhere." 

"But  with  your  talents  and  your  great  knowledge,  I 
should  think  you  could  make  your  living  anywhere." 

"  It  is  not  all  of  life  to  live,"  the  doctor  quoted,  impres- 
sively. 

"  I  know  that,  but  it  is  apt  to  be  a  very  important  part." 

Hawk  sighed  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"Why  don't  you  answer?"  asked  Gertrude,  striving  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  his  features. 

"My  dear  Miss  Gertrude,"  he  replied,  turning  his  mel- 
ancholy face  toward  her  ;  "  there  are  some  things — in  fact, 
you  should  not  try  to  peer  into  any  one's  soul  ;  it  is  not 
kind  of  you." 

There  was  a  tone  of  appeal  in  his  voice  which  took  the 
sting  away  from  the  rebuke,  and  aroused  interest  and 
curiosity. 

"  It  is  true,  after  all,  he  has  a  secret  sorrow,"  thought 
Gertrude.  "  It  must  be  a  very  low  woman  who  would 
hold  him  to  a  promise  which  he  gave  as  a  boy,  when  he 
has  since  come  to  repent  of  it." 

And  she  lapsed  into  conjectures  as  to  the  appearance  of 
this  obnoxious  woman,  her  age,  and  the  circumstances  of 
her  life;  and  the  longer  she  meditated  the  more  she  grew 
to  hate  her.  The  doctor,  as  a  victim  of  affectionate  perse- 
cution, which  he  had  incurred  by  his  love  of  learning,  be- 
came a  more  interesting  person  than  he  had  ever  been 
before.  She  became  convinced  that  she  had  been  unjust 
to  him  in  attributing  the  dramatic  accent  in  his  conduct 
and  speech  to  an  uneasy  vanity  and  desire  to  impress. 
He  was,  no  doubt,  more  genuine  than  she  suspected. 

Presently  Nettie  returned  with  the  medicine  bottles  and 
interrupted  her  reflections.  The  doctor  felt  Gertrude's 
pulse  once  more,  took  her  temperature  by  means  of  a 
thermometer  placed  in  her  arm-pit,  asked  her  a  few  medi- 
cal questions,  poured  out  a  teaspoonful  of  medicine,  which 
he  gave  her,  and  left  minute  instructions  as  to  her  diet,, 
the  ventilation  of  the  room,  etc.  There  was  something  in 
his  professional  conduct  which  was  distinctly  agreeable. 
His  grave  tenderness,  his  soft,  unhesitating  touch  and  reso- 
lute motions  inspired  confidence.  Though  the  physician 
seemed  so  distinct  from  the  man,  he  yet  reflected  a  little 
of  his  character  upon  his  unprofessional  brother. 


86  THE  MAMMON 

On  the  stairs  Hawk  was  met  by  Alexander,  who  inquired 
with  some  anxiety  what  was  the  matter  with  his  cousin. 

"  I  can't  tell  for  a  certainty,"  answered  his  friend  ;  "  but 
it  looks  very  much  like  typhoid." 

"Typhoid!" 

"Yes." 

The  word  struck  terror  to  Aleck's  heart.  He  had  never 
appeared  to  be  extravagantly  fond  of  Gertrude,  but  they 
had,  in  a  way,  grown  up  together,  and  through  all  their 
superficial  bickerings  had  been  boon  companions.  Habit 
had  fostered  between  them  an  attitude  which  was  not 
that  of  devotion ;  but  under  it  all  smouldered  a  feeling 
which  was  warm  and  genuine.  At  all  events  Aleck  was 
conscious  of  a  sudden  faintness  at  the  thought  that  Ger- 
trude's life  was  in  danger ;  and  as  soon  as  he  recovered 
from  the  first  shock  began  to  think  in  a  bewildered  way 
what  he  could  do  to  save  her.  Hawk,  feeling  it  incum- 
bent upon  him  to  apprise  the  rest  of  the  family  of  the 
young  girl's  condition,  secured  an  interview  with  Mrs. 
Larkin,  who,  in  the  meanwhile  had  returned  from  a  chari- 
table errand,  and  repeated  to  her  the  instructions  he  had 
given  the  chambermaid. 

"  I  would  recommend  you  to  engage  a  professional 
nurse,"  he  said ;  "  it  will  be  an  affair  of  six  weeks  or  more, 
and  a  great  deal  depends  upon  the  nursing." 

"All  right,  doctor,"  Mrs.  Larkin  replied,  with  an  injured 
air;  "you  get  her.  She  charges  twenty-one  dollars  a  week 
to  be  sure,  and  if  that  ain't  outrageous,  I  don't  know  what 
is,  but  I  guess  I  ain't  good  enough  to  take  care  of  the 
girl ;  and  if  you  say  I  ain't,  I  won't  say  I  am.  Though, 
when  I  was  a  girl,  nobody  thought  of  engaging  a  nurse  at 
twenty-one  dollars  a  week  for  anybody,  no  matter  how  sick 
he  was." 

Mrs.  Larkin  seemed  altogether  more  offended  than 
grieved  at  her  adopted  daughter's  illness,  and  Hawk  had 
to  talk  to  her  for  an  hour,  before  he  could  persuade  her  to 
withdraw  her  opposition  to  the  measures  he'  thought 
necessary.  He  struck  the  right  chord,  however,  when  he 
argued  that  the  extremely  delicate  condition  of  Mrs.  Lar- 
kin's  own  health  would  make  it  absolutely  dangerous  for 
her  to  expose  herself  to  the  toil  and  fatigue  of  attending 
to  the  wants  of  an  invalid  who  was  often  inclined  to  be 
unreasonable  and  exacting.  This  little  drop  of  implied 
censure  of  Gertrude  set  Mrs.  Larkin's  scruples  at  rest, 
and  induced  her,  after  much  cavil,  to  give  the  doctor  carte 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  8/ 

blanche.  As  soon  as  he  had  removed  the  impression  that 
he  entertained  the  least  solicitude  for  Gertrude's  fate,  or 
swerved  in  his  undivided  loyalty  to  Mrs.  Larkin's  ail- 
ments, he  could  have  twined  his  patroness  about  his  fin- 
ger. When  Mr.  Larkin  came  home  and  heard  the  word 
typhoid  mentioned,  he  grew  very  serious.  He  scratched 
his  head  frequently,  and  rubbed  his  forehead.  Sometimes 
he  took  hold  of  his  bushy  eyebrows  and  pulled  them,  then 
looked  at  his  thumb  and  forefinger  to  see  if  he  had  ex- 
tracted any  hairs.  He  grew  more  and  more  restless  the 
more  his  wife  talked  to  him.  Her  lugubrious  forebod- 
ings and  Biblical  quotations  irritated  him.  His  sanguine 
nature  could  not  bear  to  contemplate  an  annoying  thought, 
and  yet  all  his  efforts  to  throw  it  off  were  unavailing.  He 
made  a  feint  of  eating  when  supper  was  served,  and  before 
the  meal  was  at  an  end,  arose  and  mounted  the  stairs  to 
Gertrude's  room.  The  creaking  of  his  boots  made  an  in- 
tolerable racket,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  topmost  step  and 
pulled  them  off.  Just  then  the  Dutch  clock  in  the  hall 
struck  seven,  and  every  stroke  seemed  to  resound  through 
the  still  house  with  distressing  distinctness.  Mr.  Larkin 
walked  down  in  his  stocking  feet  and  stopped  it.  The 
canary  bird  in  the  library,  who  was  in  a  shockingly  hilari- 
ous mood,  he  sent  down  into  the  kitchen.  It  was  a  satis- 
faction to  be  doing  something  which  gave  him  a  respite 
from  harassing  thought.  When  at  last  he  had  nerved 
himself  to  open  the  door  of  the  sick-room,  he  found  Mrs. 
Rasher,  the  hired  nurse,  already  sitting  at  the  bed-side. 
He  looked  about  the  room  in  wonder  and  again  scratched 
his  head,  while  a  curious  grimace,  half  of  amazement,  half 
of  disapprobation,  distorted  one  side  of  his  face.  He  in- 
spected the  plaster  casts,  the  charcoal  and  crayon  boxes, 
and  the  naked  men  who  struck  attitudes  on  the  walls,  be- 
fore he  turned  his  attention  to  his  daughter. 

"  Poor  thing,  I  reckon  she  is  a  little  loony,"  he  mur- 
mured, and  remained  standing,  lost  in  reverie,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor ;  ''her  mother  was  so  before  her,"  he  added, 
after  a  long  pause. 

He  walked  on  tiptoe  up  to  the  bed  and  seated  himself 
in  the  easy  chair  which  the  doctor  had  occupied.  Ger- 
trude, under  the  influence  of  the  drugs  she  had  taken,  was 
lying  in  a  heavy  stupor.  There  was  no  trace  of  feeling 
in  his  hard,  gray  eyes,  as  he  sat  gazing  at  her  flushed,  mo- 
tionless features,  but  he  glanced  now  and  then  uneasily  at 
the  nurse,  as  if  he  feared  that  she  .might  suspect  him  of 


88  THE  MAMMON 

being  emotional.  The  latter,  divining  that  she  was  de  trap, 
got  up  and  gave  herself  an  errand  out  into  the  hall  ;  and 
Mr.  Larkin  seized  the  opportunity  to  stroke  his  daughter's 
listless  hand,  and  heave  a  big  sigh  which  shook  his  whole 
frame.  There  was  something  shy  and  awkward  in  the  way 
he  pulled  his  hand  away  the  moment  the  nurse  re-entered. 

"  Do  you  reckon  she  has  any  chance?"  he  asked  her,  a 
trifle  huskily,  as  she  resumed  her  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"It  is  too  early  to  tell  yet,"  she  replied  ;  "but  she  is 
young  and  strong,  and  I  should  say  she  had  ten  chances 
to  one." 

Mr.  Larkin  did  not  trust  himself  to  speak  a  second 
time.  He  feared  to  imperil  his  dignity. 

During  the  eight  or  nine  days  that  followed  Gertrude 
had  but  few  conscious  moments.  She  raved  in  her  delir- 
ium about  the  doctor,  Professor  Ramsdale,  Mr.  Robbins, 
and  particularly  about  some  imaginary  creature  whom  she 
addressed  as  "mother." 

"  Come,  mother,"  she  cried  again  and  again  ;  "  you  look 
cold  and  miserable.  Come,  let  me  warm  you  up.  Don't 
run  away  from  me  that  way.  I  am  Gertie,  don't  you 
know  ?  I  won't  harm  you.  They  have  been  bad  to  you, 
mother.  Who  is  it  has  been  bad  to  you  ?  You  need  not 
be  afraid  of  me.  It  is  I  who  am  afraid  of  you,  sometimes, 
but  I'll  try  not  to  be.  I'll  try  to  love  you.  But  oh,  don't 
look  at  me  with  those  horrible  eyes!" 

And  she  would  start  up  with  a  scream  and  bury  her  face 
in  the  pillows.  Sometimes  she  reached  the  middle  of  the 
floor  in  her  effort  to  escape  from  the  ghostly  eyes,  and 
help  had  to  be  summoned  to  get  her  back  into  bed.  Hawk 
made  two  or  three  visits  a  day,  but  did  not  seem  quite 
satisfied  with  the  turn  the  disease  was  taking.  He  would 
have  liked  to  call  in  another  physician  for  consultation, 
but  he  lived  on  a  war  footing  with  his  medical  colleagues 
in  the  town,  and  had,  moreover,  so  low  an  opinion  of  their 
acquirements,  that  he  felt  unequal  to  the  solemn  farce  of 
asking  their  opinion.  As  something  had  to  be  done,  how- 
ever, he  induced  Mr.  Larkin  to  telegraph  for  a  renowned 
specialist  in  New  York  City,  to  whose  judgment  he  could 
subordinate  his  own  without  humiliation.  But  the  re- 
nowned leech,  who  arrived  promptly,  had  very  little  to 
say.  He  approved,  on  the  whole,  of  everything  Hawk 
had  done,  but  he  decided  to  remain  for  some  days,  while 
his  assistance  might  be  of  value.  The  fever  had,  on  the 
ninth  day,  reached  its  crisis,  and  an  atmosphere  of  dumb 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  89 

excitement  pervaded  the  house.  Swift  and  low  orders 
were  issued  from  the  sick  room,  now  for  ice,  then  for 
brandy,  camphor,  hot  or  cold  water,  sponges,  towels,  etc. 
Every  now  and  then  the  sick-nurse,  with  her  sleeves  rolled 
up  to  the  shoulder,  flitted  noiselessly  across  the  hall  to 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  where  the  chambermaid  sat  weep- 
ing, and  hastily  wiped  away  her  tears  with  her  apron,  to 
attend  to  her  orders ;  and  Gertie's  canary  bird,  who,  some- 
how, had  found  its  way  back  into  the  library,  lay  dead 
from  starvation  on  the  bottom  of  its  darkened  cage  ;  the 
big  clock  in  the  hall,  with  its  motionless  pendulum,  gave 
the  impression  that  time  itself  had  come  to  an  end. 

Alexander,  who  was  seated  before  the  open  fire-place, 
staring  into  the  smouldering  embers,  felt  weary  and  op- 
pressed. He  had  been  walking  about  for  days  in  a  state 
of  anxious  expectancy  ;  the  calamity  which  loomed  up 
before  him  seemed  to  throw  its  gloom  over  his  entire  life. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  must  forever  walk  in  its  shadow. 
Could  life  be  the  same  to  him  when  Gertrude  was  dead  ? 
Well,  life  has  a  heartless  way  of  adjusting  itself  to  all 
changes,  however  radical ;  of  closing,  with  unruffled  sur- 
face, like  the  sea,  over  its  dead,  and  swiftly  obliterating 
their  footsteps.  Alexander,  though  his  heart  rebelled 
against  this  order,  knew  that  it  was  merciful.  Even  now 
there  was  something  remote  and  mysterious  in  his  thought 
of  Gertrude.  It  was  as  if  she  were  already  half  way  out  of 
his  life.  What  were  they  doing  to  her,  those  strange 
doctors,  in  whose  hands  she  was  left,  isolated  from  all  the 
familiar  world  which  had  hitherto  surrounded  her  ?  She 
underwent  a  singular  transformation  in  his  thought,  and 
he  found  it  difficult,  even  in  fancy,  to  realize  their  former 
relation  of  easy,  bantering  familiarity. 

He  spent  the  entire  night  in  his  chair  before  the  fire, 
receiving  now  and  then  a  visit  from  his  uncle,  who  was 
restlessly  hovering  about  in  his  stocking  feet  from  room 
to  room.  He  seemed  to  have  something  on  his  conscience 
which  he  wished  to  confide  to  Aleck,  but  which  appar- 
ently, on  second  thought,  he  concluded  to  keep  to  him- 
self. He  looked  haggard  from  loss  of  sleep.  The  lines 
of  his  face  had  lost  'their  resolute  firmness,  and  drooped 
pathetically.  He  stood  long  at  the  window,  the  shutters 
of  which  no  one  had  thought  of  closing,  and  gazed  at  the 
great  dark  clouds  which  hurried  away  over  the  tree-tops. 

"  The — the  wind  is  veering  northward,"  he  observed,  as 
he  resumed  his  seat  at  the  fire  ;  "  it  feels  like  snow." 


9O  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   X. 

A  FATAL  ENTANGLEMENT. 

"  It  was  like  fanning  a  spark,"  said  the  renowned  physi- 
cian, as  he  pocketed  Mr.  Larkin's  check,  two  days  after 
the  critical  night  ;  "a  moment's  abatement  of  vigilance  and 
all  might  have  been  over." 

"  Tell  me,  doctor,"  said  Aleck,  who  was  standing  at  his 
desk  in  the  library  regarding  the  great  man  with  grateful 
admiration,  "do  you  think  a  great  excitement  could  induce 
typhoid  fever  ? " 

"•If  it  did  not  actually  produce  it,"  the  doctor  replied, 
"it  might  yet  be  the  proximate  cause  of  it.  By  prostrating 
the  body,  and  reducing  its  vitality,  it  would  make  it  more 
liable  to  succumb  to  a  fever,  the  germs  of  which  were 
already  in  the  blood." 

Aleck  drove  the  doctor  to  the  depot  in  the  family  buggy, 
and  by  pursuing  this  subject  further  became  convinced 
that  it  was  the  spiritual  stance  which  had  brought  Ger- 
trude to  death's  door.  An  intense  bitterness  toward  Dr. 
Hawk  filled  his  soul.  It  was  he  who,  in  case  Gertrude 
had  died,  would  have  been  her  slayer.  All  that  morbid 
hunger  for  excitement  ;  all  that  owlish  nocturnal  traffic 
with  its  mystic  nonsense  became  so  abhorrent  to  him,  that 
he  felt  an  itching  to  attack  with  his  fists  the  first  spiritual- 
ist that  came  in  his  way.  The  little  dramatic  touch  in 
Hawk's  behavior  which  had  hitherto  seemed  but  an  ex- 
pression of  his  intensity  of  nature,  seemed  now  of  a  piece 
with  the  ghostly  charlatanry  in  which  he  was  mixed 
up,  and  put  him  on  a  par  with  mediums  and  quacks  who 
found  it  necessary  to  depart  from  ordinary  standards  of 
conduct. 

It  was  a  mettlesome  beast  Aleck  was  driving,  and  he  did 
not  in  his  indignation  give  due  heed  to  its  management. 
As  they  crossed  one  of  the  three  railroad  tracks  which  it 
was  necessary  to  traverse  before  reaching  the  depot,  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  91 

buggy  leaped  so  high  that  it  was  only  the  doctor's  two 
hundred  and  thirty  pounds  which  saved  him  from  a  bath 
in  the  gutter. 

Gertrude's  recovery  was  slow,  but  proceeded  for  a  while 
without  interruption.  In  order  to  avoid  agitation  she  saw 
no  one  except  the  nurse  and  Dr.  Hawk  ;  and  when  the 
latter  arrived,  the  former  usually  seized  the  opportunity 
to  absent  herself.  It  was  in  the  second  week  of  her  con- 
valescence that  Hawk  one  day  took  his  seat  at  her  bed- 
side, in  an  exceptionally  lugubrious  frame  of  mind. 
His  hair  was  more  than  ordinarily  rumpled  and  the  scowl 
on  his  handsome  brow  more  than  ever  recalled  Booth  in 
"  Hamlet." 

Gertrude,  cut  off  as  she  was  from  all  communication 
with  the  world,  found  herself  pondering  in  the  long  idle 
hours  on  the  causes  of  his  discontent,  and  spinning  long 
romances,  of  which  he  naturally  was  the  hero.  She  imag-« 
ined  he  grew  sadder  in  the  same  degree  that  she  regained 
her  strength,  and  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there 
had  probably  been  some  new  development  in  relation  to 
that  odious  woman  who  persisted  in  loving  him — in  de- 
manding a  return  in  affection  for  her  expenditure  in 
money. 

This  gnawing  heart-sorrow — "this  worm  that  never 
dieth" — became  a  wonderfully  vivid  and  interesting  thing 
to  her  in  her  meditations  ;  it  trailed  its  course  through 
the  long  procession  of  vacant  hours  and  grew  larger 
and  fiercer  from  day  to  day.  The  only  event  which  in- 
terrupted the  train  of  her  morbid  imaginings  was  the  ar- 
rival every  morning  of  afresh  bouquet  of  roses  with  a  little 
sympathetic  message  from  her  cousin  Aleck.  But  the  roses, 
though  they  flamed  in  a  variety  of  gorgeous  colors,  grad- 
ually paled  beside  the  intenser  hues  of  Hawk's  romance. 
She  did  not  know,  of  course,  that  they  arrived  fresh  in 
moss  by  the  morning  train  from  Rochester  ;  but  it  is  ques- 
tionable if  even  this  circumstance,  if  it  had  been  known, 
would  have  enabled  them  to  hold  their  own  against  the 
doctor's  lurid  passion  flowers. 

"  It  is  well  with  you  to-day,"  he  was  saying,  as  he  pushed 
back  the  lace  wristband  of  her  robe  de  nuit  and  felt  her 
pulse  ;  "  yes,  yes,  yes  ;  it  is  well  with  you." 

"But  it  does  not  seem  to  be  well  with  you,  doctor," 
Gertrude  remarked.  "  Let  me  give  you  this  flower,  the 
odor  of  it  will  refresh  you." 

She  handed  him  a  half-opened  deep-crimson  bud,  and 


92  THE  MAMMON' 

he  took  it  with  his  disengaged  hand,  and  stared  at  it,  shak- 
ing his  head  mournfully. 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  rose,  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  bled,"  * 

he  declaimed,  with  his  mellow,  gently  vibrating  bass. 

The  words  thrilled  like  a  light  shiver  through  Gertrude's 
frame. 

"  You  spoil  the  flowers  for  me,"  she  said,  with  half- 
assumed  petulance  ;  "  it  is  horrid  to  think  that  they  draw 
their  color  from  anybody's  blood." 

"  There  will  grow  a  redder  rose  than  that  out  of  my 
blood,"  he  murmured,  half  absently. 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  You  couldn't  get  a  redder  one  than 
that." 

The  doctor  stood  silent  fora  moment,  then  began  slowly 
to  pick  the  rose-bud  to  pieces.  His  lips  began  to  move, 
and  with  low  and  exquisite  intonations  he  declaimed, 

"Ah,  love,  could  you  and  I  with  Him  conspire 
To  grasp  this  sorry  scheme  of  things  entire, 
Would  not  we  shatter  it  to  bits — and  then 
Remould  it  nearer  to  our  hearts'  desire?" 

The  passionate  energy  with  which  he  thrust  forth  the 
third  line  made  again  the  girl  quiver  with  sympathetic 
excitement. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  doctor,"  she  whispered  ;  "  it  is 
only  poetry  you  are  reciting." 

"Ah,  child,"  the  doctor  responded,  "you  do  not  know 
what  you  are  saying." 

And  with  a  stage  frown  and  gesture  he  flung  the  strip- 
ped rose-bud  into  the  fireplace. 

"  Yes,  I  would  shatter  it  to  bits,"  he  repeated  through  his 
clinched  teeth  ;  "and  then"  (here  he  raised  his  eyebrows 
and  fixed  a  darkly  penetrating  glance  upon  Gertrude)  "  re- 
mould it  closer  to  my  heart's  desire." 

He  took  up  his  hat  and  walked  rapidly  out  of  the  room. 

A  thought  dawned  upon  Gertrude — a  thought  which 
shook  her  being  to  its  very  core.  It  came  over  her  with 
the  force  of  a  sudden  conviction.  She  was  not  sure 
whether  it  gave  her  joy  or  pain — a  joyful  pain,  or  a  pain- 
ful joy  seemed  more  nearly  to  express  her  sensation.  In 
the  tumult  of  feeling  which  convulsed  her  feeble  frame 

*  Omar  Khayyam's  **  Rhubayat." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  93 

there  was  something  overwhelming,  inexorable,  like  Fate 
itself.  How  was  it  possible  that  she  had  not  thought  of  it  be- 
fore ?  How  wilfully  blind  she  had  been  not  to  see  what,  for 
conscientious  reasons,  he  had  endeavored  to  conceal  from 
her  ;  but  which  now  had  broken  down  the  barriers  with 
which  timid  scruples  had  hedged  it  in.  He  loved  her ; 
had  loved  her  silently  and  patiently  for  years  ;  though  she 
had  availed  herself  of  her  power  by  alternately  attracting 
and  rebuffing  him.  He  was  bound  to  another,  who,  no 
doubt,  was  base  enough  to  resort  to  any  measure  to  keep 
him  ;  who  had  mortgaged  his  affections,  and  meant  to  fore- 
close, if  she  suspected  him  of  a  disposition  to  alienate  them. 
Hence  his  melancholy — his  tendency  to  brood  upon  the 
darker  sides  of  life.  And  to  think  that  she,  who  had  been 
the  cause  of  his  sorrow,  had  been  cruel  enough  to  ridicule 
him.  She  did  penance  to  the  doctor  in  her  heart,  and 
determined,  in  the  future,  to  make  amends  for  her  bad 
behavior  in  the  past.  That  he  was  culpable  in  having,  by 
his  unguarded  conduct,  agitated  her,  when  her  very  life 
was  intrusted  to  his  care,  did  not  for  a  moment  occur  to 
her.  The  mighty  passion  in  his  breast,  of  which  she  had 
caught  a  glimpse,  seemed  to  her  feminine  mind  relent- 
less as  a  force  of  nature,  and  it  would  be  absurd  to  de- 
mand of  him  that  he  should  restrain  it. 

She  scarcely  had  the  heart  to  attribute  her  general  pros- 
tration during  the  afternoon,  and  the  return  of  the  fever 
toward  evening,  to  the  fatal  discovery  she  had  made  in  the 
morning.  She  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  blame  a 
man  for  loving  her,  even  at  the  peril  of  her  life.  This 
accidental  betrayal  of  a  vital  secret  (for  she  firmly  believed 
it  to  be  accidental)  under  the  stress  of  irresistible  feeling 
seemed  lifted  above  the  common  prose  standards  of 
judgment.  It  seemed  like  a  passage  from  Shakespere — a 
glimpse  of  that  world  of  lofty  thought  and  action  for  which 
she  had  hungered.  She  looked  forward  with  a  palpitating 
eagerness  to  the  doctor's  arrival,  heedless  of  the  fact  that 
every  winged  thought,  every  accelerated  heart-beat,  was 
draining  the  ebbing  remnants  of  her  fountain  of  life. 

When  Hawk  finally  did  arrive  there  was  something  a 
little  shamefaced  in  his  appearance  which  displeased  her. 
So  far  from  coming  like  a  conquering  hero,  riding  rough- 
shod over  all  paltry  considerations,  he  did  not  quite  dare 
look  herin  the  eye,  but  stole  quick  and  half-guilty  glances 
at  her  when  he  imagined  himself  unobserved.  He  acted  like 
the  very  personification  of  a  bad  conscience.  The  return 


94  THE  MAMMON 

of  her  fever  disturbed  him,  and  the  recurrence  of  other  un- 
favorable symptoms  caused  him  an  alarm  which  he  could 
not  conceal  behind  a  non-committal,  professional  mask. 
Mrs.  Rasher,  the  nurse,  who,  contrary  to  her  custom,  had 
remained  in  the  room,  saw  in  his  conduct  a  confirmation 
of  suspicions  which  she  had  long  entertained.  She  had 
heard  snatches  of  the  extraordinary  poetry  he  had  recited, 
and  had  resented,  moreover,  the  lofty  scorn  with  which  he 
had  rejected  her  medical  suggestions.  The  story  of  the 
stance  was  also,  by  this  time,  a  matter  of  common  gossip, 
and  Mrs.  Rasher,  who  put  her  own  construction  upon  it, 
had  declared  emphatically  in  the  kitchen,  that  in  case  Miss 
Gertrude  died,  she  wouldn't  like 'Dr.  Hawk's  conscience 
for  a  bedfellow. 

Apparently  the  doctor  shared  her  opinion,  for  he  did 
not  go  to  bed  that  night.  After  a  brief  interview  with 
Mr.  Larkin  he  telegraphed  again  for  the  famous  specialist, 
who  replied  that  he  would  arrive  by  the  morning  train. 
The  patient,  in  the  meanwhile,  after  a  restless,  drugged 
sleep,  had  become  delirious,  and  Mrs.  Rasher,  brimming 
over  with  indignation  against  Hawk,  felt  the  need  of  free- 
ing her  mind  to  some  member  of  the  family.  She  accord- 
ingly seized  the  opportunity  when  Aleck,  his  handsome 
brow  knitted  with  distress,  mounted  the  stairs  to  inquire 
about  his  cousin's  condition.  Mrs.  Rasher,  standing  on 
the  topmost  step,  gave  her  version  of  what  had  happened 
in  a  hushed  voice,  but  with  much  spirit. 

"He's  been  a-comin'  here  every  mortel  day,  sweet- 
heartin'  with  her,  and  talkin'  poentry  and  stuff,  and  a-cuttin' 
up  like  a  young  cub,  as  hasn't  got  no  more  conscience 
than  I  have  hair  on  the  back  of  my  hand,"  said  Mrs.  Rash- 
er, illustrating  her  comparison  by  a  rapid  stroke  of  her 
right  hand  over  the  back  of  the  left.  "And  she,  poor 
thing,  lyin'  there  on  her  back,  and  seein'  nobody  but  him, 
it  ain't  no  wonder  if  she  takes  on  hard  about  him,  when 
she's  out  of  her  head,  and  gets  flustered  when  he  speaks 
to  her  ;  and  he,  all  the  time,  a-wrigglin'  about  like  a  snake 
in  the  grass,  jest  to  be  aggervatin',  and  tearin'  her  roses  to 
pieces  and  flingin'  'em  into  the  grate,  and  actin'  up  gen- 
erally, and  pertendin'  to  forget  that  he's  a-holdin'  her 
poor  life  between  his  fingers,  like  a  candle  that's  a-splut- 
terrn',  that  he  kin  blow  out  with  one  little  breath  of  his 
mouth." 

Mrs.  Rasher  was  so  moved  that  the  tears  rolled  down 
over  her  cheeks.  She  took  her  clean,  white  apron,  blew 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  95 

her  nose  surreptitiously  under  it,  and  wiped  her  eyes. 
The  young  man  was  so  stunned  by  her  recital  that  for  a 
while  he  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  her  with  a  face  full 
of  dismay.  There  was  something  in  what  she  said  which 
jarred  harshly  within  him  and  set  all  his  being  painfully 
astir.  If  he  had  had  the  doctor  at  that  moment  under  his 
hand,  he  felt  as  if  he  could  have  murdered  him  with  rapt- 
ure. The  vague  distrust  he  had  felt  of  him,  since  the 
spiritual  episode,  deepened  into  hate.  That  jealousy  had 
anything  to  do  with  his  emotion  he  did  not  himself  dream  ; 
for  his  uppermost  feelings  were  condemnation  of  the  doc- 
tor's abuse  of  the  trust  confided  to  him,  and  a  trembling 
anticipation  of  the  calamity  which  would  overtake  the 
family  in  Gertrude's  death.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  to 
question  Mrs.  Rasher's  veracity  (as  his  brother  Horace 
under  similar  circumstances  would  have  done).  As  soon 
as  he  gained  control  of  his  voice  he  thanked  her  briefly 
and  descended  into  the  library,  where  he  found  Hawk 
seated  before  the  fire,  smoking  a  cigar.  Three  gas-jets 
were  dimly  burning  under  the  roof,  and  there  was  a  drop- 
light  with  a  green  shade  standing  upon  Mr.  Larkin's  writ- 
ing-table. In  the  embrasure  of  the  bow-window  Horace 
was  sitting  with  a  newspaper  over  his  face  dozing.  Aleck's 
entrance  awoke  him,  and  merely  to  signalize  the  fact  that 
he  was  awake,  he  observed  in  a  voice  which  grated  terribly 
upon  his  brother's  overwrought  nerves  : 

"You  don't  think  she  has  much  of  a  chance,  doctor,  do 
you  ?" 

"  All  we  can  do,"  responded  Hawk,  solemnly,  "  is  to 
labor  'hopefully  against  hope.'" 

That  irritating  little  epigram,  the  insincerity  of  which 
Was  now  palpable,  fell  into  Aleck's  mind  as  a  spark  into 
a  powder  magazine.  There  sat  the  man  upon  whom  he 
had  lavished  the  guileless  affection  and  faith  of  his  youth ; 
the  man  to  whose  glittering  paradoxes  he  had  listened 
devoutly  as  to  the  inspirations  of  genius  ;  the  man  whom 
he  had  befriended  when  others  turned  their  backs  upon 
him,  and  revered  as  something  nobler  and  finer  than  com- 
mon clay.  Each  one  of  these  thoughts  was  a  pang  of 
anguish  and  humiliation.  A  savage  rage  took  possession 
of  him.  He  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf.  He  felt  an  impulse 
to  seize  the  doctor  by  the  throat,  to  knock  him  against  the 
wall,  to  stamp  on  him  with  his  feet.  But  even  in  the 
midst  of  his  agitation  there  was  a  still  small  voice  of  re- 
flection, which,  like  a  sober  commentary,  accompanied  the 


96  THE  MAMMON 

excited  text.  Even  while  he  yearned  to  strangle  the  doc- 
tor, he  knew  that  he  would  never  do  it.  The  remark 
which  he  finally  made  was  several  octaves  below  the  pitch 
he  had  intended  to  strike. 

"Dr.  Hawk,"  he  said,  with  unsteady  voice,  "you  are 
playing  an  underhand  game  here." 

Hawk  turned  his  head  quickly  with  a  vague  alarm  in  his 
face. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  he  asked,  with  surly  in- 
difference. 

"What  would  you  call  a  physician,"  continued  Aleck, 
struggling  to  master  his  agitation,  "  who  in  order  to  gratify 
his  own  vanity,  sacrificed  a  life  entrusted  to  his  care  ?" 

"  I  would  call  him  a  d d  scoundrel,"  cried  Hawk. 

"So  would  I,"  Aleck  retorted  hotly  ;  "and  that's  what  I 
call  you." 

The  doctor  started  up  with  a  livid  face,  and  made  a 
motion  as  if  he  intended  to  grab  the  fire-irons.  But  sud- 
denly he  bit  his  lip,  thrust  his  hands  vehemently  into  his 
pockets  and  took  a  couple  of  long  strides  across  the  floor. 
He  nearly  ran  against  Horace,  who,  by  this  time  had  got 
his  paper  down  from  his  face  and  was  watching  the  scene 
with  the  same  kind  of  interest  with  which  a  man  watches 
a  dog-fight,  simply  to  see  who  will  beat. 

"You  are  my  witness,"  Hawk  burst  out,  "that  your 
brother  has  insulted  me." 

"  You  wish  to  retain  me  as  counsel,  do  you  ?  Well, 
business  is  business." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  the  language  your  brother 
has  used  toward  me  ?  " 

"  I  shall  have  to  ask  for  a  retainer  before  I  commit  my- 
self to  any  such  testimony,"  Horace  replied,  with  mock 
gravity. 

"  I  tell  you  I'm  not  fooling,"  cried  the  doctor,  angrily. 

"  Nor  am  I,"  answered  Horace,  coolly.  "  You  know  an 
attorney  never  likes  to  take  the  witness-stand  in  favor  of 
his  own  client.  It  is  a  thing  that  is  only  resorted  to  in  ex- 
treme cases." 

The  doctor  turned  around  on  his  heel,  and  muttering  an 
oath  walked  across  the  floor  to  the  mantel,  where  Aleck 
was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire. 

"  Will  you  or  will  you  not  apologize  for  what  you  have 
said  ?"  he  asked,  breathing  hard. 

"  I  will  not." 

"  Then  you  are  prepared  to  take  the  responsibility  ? " 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  97 

"  What  responsibility  ?  " 

"  The  responsibility  of  life  and  death." 

Aleck  stood  as  one  petrified.  That  had  not  occurred  to 
him  when  he  gave  way  to  his  indignation.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  New  York  specialist  had  been  telegraphed 
for;  and  even  if  he  had  known  it,  would  he  have  been 
willing  to  leave  Gertrude  without  medical  aid  for  one 
night,  when  her  life  was  every  moment  trembling  in  the 
balance  ?  The  floor  seemed  to  be  gliding  away  from  un- 
der his  feet,  leaving  him  standing  in  mid-air.  His  legs 
seemed  numb,  his  senses  frozen.  "  If  she  should  die,  if 
she  should  die,"  he  kept  mechanically  repeating  to  him- 
self ;  "if  she  should  die  to-night,  what  would  become  of 
me  ? " 

He  murmured  the  question  half  aloud,  and  with  a  sin- 
gular coolness,  merely  to  keep  hold  of  the  situation  which 
threatened  to  slip  away  from  his  grasp.  All  of  a  sudden 
a  flash  broke  through  his  mind.  He  saw  himself  fleeing 
through  the  long  years  of  the  future,  in  storm  and  dark- 
ness, pursued  by  the  terrible  phantom — Remorse.  The 
vision  of  Gertrude  dead — with  cold,  upturned  face,  sunken 
eyes,  and  white,  unfeeling  hands  folded  upon  her  breast — 
sent  another  pang  to  his  heart.  With  a  face  eloquent 
with  anguish  he  stood  for  a  while  staring  at  Hawk.  "  I 
apologize,  doctor,"  he  said,  huskily.  "  I  beg  your  par- 
don."^ 


98  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XL 

A   SANGUINARY    EPISODE. 

A  week  of  anxious  suspense  followed  the  arrival  of  the 
renowned  leech,  who,  after  a  stay  of  two  days,  sent  on  a 
younger  colleague  from  New  York,  who  took  full  charge 
of  the  case,  practically  superseding  Hawk.  It  was  obvious 
to  the  latter  that  the  elder  practitioner  had  taken  in  the 
situation,  and  had  intended  to  make  him  superfluous  ;  but 
lest  others  should  hit  upon  this  opinion,  and  his  prestige 
in  the  town  suffer,  he  exalted  Dr.  Manson's  ability  to  the 
skies,  and  treated  him  with  distinguished  consideration. 
If  he  gnashed  his  teeth  in  private  and  resented  the  polite 
but  unmistakable  rebuffs  which  he  received,  whenever  he 
attempted  to  interfere,  he  was  clever  enough  to  adjust  his 
public  mask  so  as  to  disguise  his  feelings.  The  mood  of  his 
favorite  poet,  Omar  Khayyam,  always  came  to  his  rescue, 
dulling  the  edge  of  pain,  when  his  resentment  was  keen- 
est. It  was  all  vanity  of  vanities.  In  a  hundred  years 
what  would  it  matter  ?  He  would  then  pace  up  and  down 
the  floor  of  his  sitting-room,  with  his  head  bent,  and  now 
and  then  glancing  half  surreptitiously  at  himself  in  the 
mirror,  while  he  murmured  : 

"  When  you  and  I  beyond  the  vail  are  past, 

Oh,  but  the  long,  long  while  the  world  shall  last, 
Which  of  our  coming  and  departure  heeds 
As  heed  the  seven  seas  a  pebble  cast." 

Heine  observed  that  he  wore  out  the  patience  of  all  his 
friends  in  dying,  and  Gertrude,  if  she  had  been  aware  oi 
it,  might  have  had  the  same  experience.  Mr.  Larkin, 
genuine  though  his  grief  had  been,  had  gradually  grown 
callous,  and  in  a  vague  way  had  accustomed  himself  to 
the  thought  of  Gertrude's  loss.  Horace,  whose  sympa- 
thies were  never  very  acute,  felt  an  annoyance  (of  which, 
to  do  him  justice,  he  was  ashamed)  at  having  the  house 
turned  upside  down  for  so  long  a  time  ;  and  Mrs.  Larkin, 
in  order  to  give  vfcnt  to  her  accumulated  sense  of  wrong, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  99 

scolded  the  servants,  discharged  one  cook  after  the  other, 
and  threw  out  accusations  of  a  grave  nature  against  every- 
one who  displeased  her.  Only  Aleck  followed  the  prog- 
ress of  the  disease  with  undiminished  anxiety,  and  hailed 
with  inexpressible  relief  the  first  decisive  turn  toward  re- 
covery. Of  the  many  townspeople  who  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  inquiring  at  the  door  about  the  patient's  condi- 
tion, only  Professor  Ramsdale  persevered  until  inquiry 
seemed  superfluous. 

It  was  remarked  in  the  town,  as  the  winter  progressed, 
that  the  friendship  between  Aleck  and  the  doctor  had 
cooled.  They  had  before  been  constant  companions,  and 
were  now  never  seen  together.  On  his  long  afternoon 
tramps  Aleck  was  now  accompanied  by  the  taciturn  Rams- 
dale,  who  paced  with  a  long,  business-like  stride  like  a 
professional  pedestrian.  The  professor  had  not  a  spark 
of  humor  and  was  not  exhilarating  company.  But  there 
was  something  solid  and  trustworthy  about  him  which 
compensated  for  his  lack  of  conversational  brilliancy. 
Moreover,  his  serious  solicitude  for  Gertrude,  and  his  dog- 
like  devotion  in  spite  of  rebuffs,  filled  Aleck  with  kind- 
ness for  him. 

The  story  of  Aleck's  quarrel  with  the  doctor  had,  by 
this  time,  gone  abroad  in  several  distorted  versions.  It 
was  told  that  Hawk  had  attacked  his  patron  with  a  poker, 
because  the  latter  had  accused  him  of  making  love  to 
Gertrude  under  the  guise  of  professional  attention.  An- 
other version  was  that  Hawk  had  wished  to  engage  Hor- 
ace Larkin  as  counsel  in  a  libel  suit  against  his  brother, 
but  that  Horace  had  insisted  upon  having  his  retainer  in 
cash,  and  had  asked  a  larger  sum  than  the  doctor  could 
raise.  Nobody  felt  any  hesitation  in  asking  the  partici- 
pants in  the  affair  about  their  share  in  the  proceedings  ; 
but  their  answers  tended  in  nowise  to  settle  the  disputed 
points.  Horace  told  grotesque  Munchausen  yarns  with 
the  soberest  face  in  the  world.  The  doctor  gave  only 
dark  hints  as  to  what  might  happen,  and  in  the  presence 
of  his  lady  friends  wrapped  himself  in  an  impressive  cloak 
of  mystery.  Only  Aleck  declared  frankly  that  the  subject 
was  painful  to  him,  and  that  he  preferred  not  to  discuss  it. 

Gossip  is  a  form  of  energy  which  many  of  us  are  in- 
clined to  deprecate.  It  fulfils,  however,  an  important 
mission.  It  keeps  many  a  wearisome  community  from 
absolute  stagnation  and  decay.  The  tendency  to  gossip  is 
a  venerable  Aryan  inheritance.  Cgesar  tells  us  that  in  an- 


100  THE  MAMMON 

cient  Gaul  the  stranger  was  surrounded  in  the  market- 
place by  the  curious  inhabitants,  and  assiduously  pumped, 
until  he  had  delivered  up  the  last  scrap  of  news  he  pos- 
sessed ;  and  one  can  imagine  how  long  the  poor  isolated 
villagers  lived  on  these  precious  bits  of  intelligence,  exer- 
cising the  ingenuity  of  their  dull  brains  in  adorning  and 
varying  them  ad  infinitum.  When  this  gossip  has  grown  a 
hundred  years  old  we  call  it  tradition  ;  a  little  extra  dis- 
tortion makes  it  folk-lore  and  poetic.  Every  century  that 
slips  away  adds  to  its  value,  until,  in  due  time,  mytholo- 
gists  make  sun-myths  of  it,  and  invest  it  with  a  profound 
and  beautiful  meaning. 

If  this  Torryville  incident  had  occurred  in  an  earlier 
century,  when  events  crowded  each  other  less,  some  such 
fate  might  indeed  have  overtaken  it.  As  it  was,  it  must 
content  itself  with  its  place  in  the  present  unpretentious 
chronicle.  It  did,  however,  prepare  the  way  for  a  sensa- 
tion which  shook  the  town  to  its  very  foundation,  and 
caused  the  local  daily  to  issue  an  extra  in  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  February  23d,  the  day  after 
Washington's  Birthday,  hackman  Tommy  Colt,  driving  to 
the  depot  to  catch  the  7.15  Western  express,  found,  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  a  Derby  hat  with  a  hole  in  the  crown, 
which  had  evidently  been  made  with  some  sharp  instru- 
ment. On  picking  it  up  he  found  that  it  was  bloody,  and 
that  a  tuft  of  blonde  hair  and  a  substance  resembling  brain 
and  crushed  bone  adhered  to  the  inside  of  the  lining,  where 
it  had  been  pierced  by  the  deadly  weapon.  A  further  in- 
spection revealed  to  his  horrified  eyes  the  initials  A.  L. 
stamped  in  gilt  letters  on  the  lining,  and  he  was  not  slow 
in  jumping  to  the  conclusion  that  the  hat  belonged  to 
Alexander  Larkin. 

The  whole  story  of  the  latter's  quarrel  with  Dr.  Hawk, 
with  all  the  latest  embellishments,  darted  through  Tommy 
Colt's  brain.  He  reflected  briefly  on  the  consequences  of 
his  discovery,  and  whether  he  would  like  to  see  the  doc- 
tor hung  on  his  testimony.  He  concluded,  after  a  while, 
that  he  would  rather  not,  but  feared  that,  in  case  he  pre- 
varicated, he  might  cast  suspicion  upon  himself.  In  or- 
der, however,  to  "share  the  responsibility  of  discovery  with 
the  next  comer,  he  put  the  hat  back  where  he  had  found 
it,  jumped  up  on  his  box,  and  drove  to  the  Larkin  man- 
sion. There  he  demanded  and  obtained  an  interview  with 
Horace,  who  was  just  coming  down  to  breakfast. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  IOI 

"  Is  Mr.  Aleck  at  home  ?  "  Tommy  Ooii  inquired, 'with 
chattering  teeth,  by  way  of  overture. 

"No  ;  he  went  to  New  York  last  night  by  the  11.15  ex' 
press." 

Tommy  Colt,  with  great  deliberation,  took  the  quid  out 
of  his  mouth  and  put  it  in  his  vest  pocket.  His  teeth 
chattered  so  that  he  could  hardly  speak. 

"You  hain't  heard  from  him  sence  ? "  he  managed  to 
stammer. 

"  No  ;  why  do  you  ask  ? " 

"  I  reckon  you'd  better  come  outside  with  me,"  Tommy 
observed,  taking  the  lawyer  familiarly  by  the  arm.  He 
felt  a  pity  for  him  which  obliterated  all  sense  of  social 
station. 

"  Good  Lord,  man,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  Horace, 
his  face  white  with  horror.  "  Has  he  come  to  harm  ? " 

"  Mebbe  he  has,"  answered  the  hackman,  clenching  his 
teeth  hard  after  each  word,  "and  mebbe  he  hain't." 

Horace  grabbed  a  hat  from  the  hat-rack  and  rushed 
into  the  street.  He  seemed  to  be  wrestling  with  a  fright- 
ful nightmare,  and  half-suspecting  that  he  might  wake  up 
and  find  that  he  had  been  dreaming. 

"  Now  tell  me  what  has  happened,"  he  thrust  forth, 
breathlessly. 

Tommy  Colt  related  the  incident  of  the  finding  of  the 
hat,  and  volunteered  to  drive  Horace  to  the  spot,  where  it 
was  probably  yet  lying.  Three  laborers  and  half  a  dozen 
unkempt  children  had,  in  the  meanwhile,  scented  the  sen- 
sation, and  a  dozen  more  were  coming,  at  an  uneven  trot, 
across  the  empty  lots. 

It  was  a  raw  morning  with  slate-colored  skies,  dripping 
roofs,  and  dirty  patches  of  snow  melting  in  the  hollows  of 
the  brown  fields  and  along  the  edges  of  the  ditches  that 
skirted  the  black  railroad  tracks.  Here  and  there  a  bit 
of  meadow  was  half  submerged  and  mirrored  the  dismal 
skies  in  its  shallow  pools.  A  cold,  shivering  moisture  per- 
vaded everything.  It  silvered  your  mustache  with  tiny 
water-drops  ;  it  stole  through  the  texture  of  your  thickest 
ulster  ;  it  insinuated  itself  into  your  very  bones,  and  made 
you  feel  as  if  you  never  could  grow  warm  again.  The 
roads,  which  were  a  sea  of  slush  and  mud,  expanded  in 
many  places  into  the  neighboring  fields,  and  every  rail- 
road hack  tnat  came  along  cut  its  deep  ruts  a  little  beyond 
the  semi-circle  made  by  its  predecessors.  Two  ugly  squatty 
buildings,  looking  as  if  they  had  been  soaked  in  filthy 


102 


THE  MAMMON 


toatef,'  stmr6iinded  t>y -"dripping  lumber  piles,  debris  of  coal, 
and  a  network  of  tracks  and  "switches,"  exhibited  half- 
obliterated  signs  which  indicated  that  they  were  railroad 
depots  ;  and  the  proximity  of  two  elevated  water-tanks,  a 
multitude  of  freight-cars,  a  smoke-begrimed  grain-ele- 
vator, and  some  white-painted  structures  resembling  gal- 
lows, and  warning  you  to  "  Beware  of  the  Locomotive 
while  the  Bell  is  Ringing,"  served  further  to  emphasize 
the  suggestion. 

It  was  to  this  scene  of  desolation  that  Horace  was  con- 
ducted by  Tommy  Colt.  He  sat  drearily  staring  into  the 
murky  air,  striving  vainly  to  shake  off  the  numb  despair 
which  held  him  in  its  clutch.  The  calamity  seemed  so  in- 
conceivable, so  cruel,  so  overwhelming.  Tommy  Colt 
had  to  speak  twice  to  him,  as  he  stepped  into  the  middle  of 
the  road,  where  the  railroad  laborers  and  the  children 
were  standing,  gazing  with  a  vague  gratification  at  the  in- 
teresting object.  Horace  stepped  out  at  last  and  stared 
with  a  hard,  old-looking  face  at  the  people.  He  shuddered 
with  cold  and  with  horror.  Then  he  stooped  to  pick  up 
the  hat.  The  circle  around  him  narrowed,  and  with  cran- 
ing necks  and  straining  eyes  they  pressed  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  watch  for  exciting  developments.  Tommy  Colt, 
with  a  proud  sense  of  his  prominence  in  the  affair,  el- 
bowed his  way  to  the  centre  and  obligingly  raised  the  hat 
on  the  handle  of  his  whip.  "  If  that  ain't  Aleck's  hat 
I'll  be  blowed,"  he  said,  rather  unfeelingly;  "it's  got 
Barber  &  White's  mark  on  it.  It's  a  two  dollar  and  a  half 
Derby,  and  I  seen  Aleck  buy  it  myself  at  Barber  & 
White's,  a  year  ago  last  election." 

Tommy  had  by  this  time  conquered  his  tendency  to 
shiver,  and  was  ready  to  assert  himself  as  his  importance 
warranted.  His  words,  however,  had  an  unforeseen  effect 
upon  Horace.  They  pierced  his  benumbing  lethargy  and 
aroused  his  faculties.  The  question  whether  it  was  actu- 
ally Aleck's  hat  began  to  interest  him,  and  having  deter- 
mined that  it  was,  he  asked  himself  whether  it  was  prob- 
able that  he  would  choose  an  old  Derby,  of  last  year's 
fashion,  when  he  was  going  to  New  York.  He  remem- 
bered that  Aleck  had  been  in  the  habit  of  keeping  this 
hat  at  the  office,  where  anybody  might  have  carried  it  off 
without  attracting  attention.  He  had  even  a  faint  suspi- 
cion that  the  hair  adhering  to  the  clotted  blood  was  a 
shade  darker  than  his  brother's.  Was  it  not  possible  that 
the  person  who  had  been  murdered  had  stolen  Aleck's 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  1 03 

hat,  or  possibly  in  some  other  way  gotten  possession  of 
it  ?  These  theories,  whatever  they  were  worth,  appealed 
to  his  judicial  ingenuity,  and  though  not  dispelling  his 
fears,  eased  the  intolerable  sense  of  oppression.  Without 
uttering  a  word  he  took  his  seat  again  in  the  hack  and  or- 
dered Tommy  to  drive  him  to  the  telegraph  office.  There 
were  but  two  hotels  in  New  York  to  which  Aleck  would 
be  likely  to  go,  and  if  he  was  at  either  of  them,  he  would 
be  prompt  to  answer. 

"Ain't  yer  goin'  to  take  that  hat  to  the  police?"  in- 
quired Tommy,  anxiously. 

"No." 

"  I'll  be  blowed  ef  it  ain't  Aleck's,  he  repeated,  eagerly. 
"Didn't  I  tell  ye  I  seen  him  buy  it?" 

"  You  did." 

Tommy  had  acquired  a  sense  of  proprietorship  in  the 
sensation,  and  was  determined  not  to  have  it  belittled  or 
explained  away.  He  was  not  going  to  be  defrauded  of  his 
glory  by  any  lawyer's  trick. 

"I  guess  ye  don't  feel  good,"  he  observed,  as  he  tight- 
ened the  reins  and  whipped  up  his  sorry  nags. 

Having  despatched  his  two  telegrams,  Horace  dis- 
charged the  hackman  and  returned  home.  He  found  his 
uncle  seated  alone  at  his  breakfast.  His  strong  molars  were 
laboring  over  the  beefsteak  with  a  business-like  regularity, 
showing  the  working  of  the  muscles  at  the  base  of  the  jaws 
and  a  sympathetic  movement  in  the  temples,  whenever  he 
brought  his  teeth  together.  He  nodded  to  Horace  as  he 
entered,  but  gave  him  no  other  greeting.  The  combined 
odors  of  beefsteak,  buckwheat  cakes,  and  maple  syrup, 
which  at  other  times  were  so  agreeable  to  the  nephew's 
nostrils,  made  him  now  almost  faint.  He  took  his  seat, 
however,  and  ordered  a  cup  of  coffee.  He  strove  to  ex- 
hibit no  sign  of  excitement  in  the  old  gentleman's  presence, 
because  he  meant  to  have  him  finish  his  breakfast  in  peace. 

"Did  you  foreclose  that  Ruppert  mortgage  in  Wayne 
County  ?"  Mr.  Larkin  inquired,  pulling  some  papers  out  of 
his  pocket  and  making  some  memoranda  with  a  pencil  on 
the  back  of  a  letter. 

"  It  was  attended  to,  sir,"  Horace  replied,  gazing 
vaguely  at  the  Three  Christian  Graces,  with  the  abnor- 
mally big  eyes,  which  hung  over  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Do  you  think  that  $2,500  mortgage  on  the  Hallett 
farm  in  Wisconsin  is  good  ?"  the  uncle  went  on,  while  he 
folded  the  buttered  buckwheats  with  his  fork  and  made 


IO4  THE  MAMMON1 

them  disappear  with  absent-minded  despatch.  Like  most 
Americans,  he  ate  in  order  to  live,  and  was  as  remote  as 
possible  from  reversing  the  proposition. 

"  I  wrote  to  the  lawyer  in  Racine  about  it,  and  expect 
a  reply  to-day,"  the  nephew  answered.  He,  too,  had 
fallen  to  eating,  in  order  not  to  make  himself  conspicuous 
by  abstention.  But  he  seemed  to  be  having  an  immoder- 
ate labor  in  swallowing  ;  he  would  have  put  syrup  on  his 
steak,  if  the  waitress  had  not  prevented  him  ;  he  could  dis- 
tinguish no  difference  in  taste  between  meat  and  buck- 
wheats. When  the  old  gentleman  had  finished  simultan- 
eously his  second  cup  of  coffee  and  his  memoranda,  he 
got  up  and  walked,  with  a  slight  stiifness  in  the  knees, 
toward  the  library.  Horace,  too,  pushed  his  plate  away 
and  followed  him.  A  little  business  conference  after 
breakfast  was  a  regular  incident  of  the  day,  and  Mr. 
Larkin  did  not  trouble  himself  to  look  up,  as  his  attorney 
seated  himself  on  the  other  side  of  his  desk. 

"  There's  some  little  excitement  in  town  this  morning," 
Horace  began. 

"What's  up?" 

"  It  may  concern  us,  and  it  may  not,"  Horace  replied, 
without  a  tremor  in  his  voice  ;  "a  hat  has  been  found  on 
the  road  to  the  depot." 

"Well,  what  of  that?  Some  drunken  fool  probably 
lost  it." 

"  The  hat  appears  to  be  Aleck's." 

Mr.  Larkin  raised  his  head  slowly  and  stared  at  his 
nephew  with  a  strained  expression.  Through  the  rigid 
lines  of  his  face  struggled  a  vague  demand  to  know  the 
worst  at  once  and  have  it  over. 

"  Don't  try  to  spare  me,"  he  said  ;  "  is  he  dead  ? " 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  Horace  rejoined,  energetically.  "  I 
have  a  feeling  that  he  is  not  dead." 

"  Anyway,  don't  let  Gertie  know  anything  about  it  ;  it 
would  be  an  awful  set-back  to  her.  Tell  the  servants  not 
to  say  a  word  to  her." 

At  the  mention  of  Gertrude's  name,  the  same  thought 
flashed  through  the  old  and  the  young  man's  brain,  and 
their  eyes  met  in  a  significant  glance  of  understanding. 
It  was  a  sickening  thought,  and  one  which  they  would 
willingly  have  repelled. 

"God  have  mercy  on  us,  miserable  sinners,"  Mr.  Lar- 
kin sighed,  as  he  stalked  out  into  the  hall  and  pulled  on 
his  overcoat. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  1 05 

Outside  of  the  house  the  street  was  black  with  people. 
The  usually  quiet  town  was  all  excitement  and  commo- 
tion. All  along  the  board  sidewalks  poured  a  dense 
stream  of  humanity  down  toward  the  scene  of  the  tragedy. 
There  was  an  animation  in  their  gestures  and  bearing 
which  contrasted  with  their  wonted  dulness  and  lethargy. 
Elderly  men  who  usually  moved  at  a  snail's  pace,  ran  ; 
slow-witted  grocers  and  drygoods  and  hardware  men 
grew  bright  under  the  stimulus  of  the  excitement,  and  ex- 
hausted themselves  in  ingenious  conjectures  as  to  manner, 
motives,  and  circumstances  of  the  murder.  Dr.  Hawk's 
name  was  freely  bandied  about  ;  and  what  had  at  first 
been  whispered  as  a  remote  suspicion  was  soon  discussed 
as  a  probability  which  admitted  of  no  cavil.  Aleck  was  a 
universally  popular  man,  and  was  known  to  have  had  no 
enemy  in  the  world  but  Hawk.  The  latter,  it  was  main- 
tained, was,  nobody  knew  who — a  suspicious  character  of 
mythical  antecedents.  Nobody  ought  to  be  surprised  if 
such  a  man  turned  out  to  be  a  criminal.  It  was  demand- 
ed by  several  influential  citizens  that  the  doctor  be  forth- 
with arrested  ;  but  Judge  Wolf,  who  was  the  only  judge 
in  town,  cooled  their  zeal,  and  begged  them  to  wait  until 
some  positive  proof  had  been  obtained.  In  the  mean- 
while he  consented  to  have  two  policemen  detailed  to 
watch  Hawk  and  prevent  his  escape,  in  case  he  should  at- 
tempt to  leave  the  town. 

Old  Mr.  Larkin's  gray  head,  surmounted  by  the  inevita- 
ble rusty  beaver,  made  a  sensatio'n  wherever  it  appeared. 
It  was  thought  strange  at  first  that  he  was  not  too  pros- 
trated by  grief  to  interest  himself  in  tracking  the  murderer. 
But  the  sentiment  gradually  predominated  that  the  vin- 
dictive enterprise  he  displayed  was  more  in  keeping  with 
his  character,  and  therefore  commendable.  He  was  not  a 
man  who  loved  to  sit  still  ;  all  his  sentiments,  whether 
painful  or  joyous,  acted  as  a  propelling  force  to  set  him  in 
motion.  Discarding  his  nephew's  arm,  he  started  at  a 
brisk  pace  down  the  plank-walk,  elbowing  his  way  through 
the  dense  throng  of  people  who  stood  ankle-deep  in 
mud,  seeing  nothing  except  the  backs  of  their  neighbors' 
heads,  and  yet  animated  and  buoyed  up  with  a  half-grati- 
fied excitement.  There  were  a  thousand  people  at  the 
very  least,  and  more  were  constantly  arriving.  The  stores 
on  the  main  street  had  been  closed  in  order  to  give  clerks 
and  proprietors  an  opportunity  to  assist  at  the  clearing  up 
of  the  mystery  ;  and  the  professors,  in  the  University  had 


IC>6  THE  MAMMON 

dismissed  their  classes  and  given  a  general  holiday.  In 
acknowledgment  of  this  concession  they  were  greeted, 
wherever  any  of  them  appeared,  with  the  peculiar  Univer- 
sity yell,  and  sometimes  inadvertently  pushed  into  the 
gutter  by  a  company  of  students  who  came  storming,  four 
abreast,  along  the  crowded  plank-walks.  But  they  were 
well  accustomed  to  such  amenities,  and  usually  bore  them 
without  display  of  temper.  When,  however,  the  founder 
collided  with  such  a  squad  of  noisy  under-graduates,  threat- 
ening demonstrations  were  apt  to  follow.  Mr.  Larkin  hav- 
ing founded  the  University  with  his  own  hard-earned 
money,  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  University,  in  return, 
owed  him  gratitude  and  respect.  Having  himself  never 
been  in  a  university,  he  was  unable  to  comprehend  the 
students'  view  of  the  case,  viz.,  that  they  conferred  a  favor 
upon  the  Larkin  University  by  selecting  it  as  the  recipient 
of  their  patronage,  out  of  the  great  number  which  were 
anxious  to  attract  them.  Being,  however,  well  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Larkin's  sentiments  on  the  subject,  they  neglect- 
ed no  opportunity  to  disabuse  him  ;  hostilities,  of  a  more 
or  less  overt  kind,  were  continually  being  exchanged. 

It  was  after  various  vain  attempts  to  assert  his  authority 
that  the  old  gentleman  reached  the  spot,  where  the  bloody 
hat  was  still  an  object  of  interested  scrutiny.  He  had 
nerved  himself  for  the  ordeal,  and  had  conquered  his  dis- 
position to  shudder.  The  general  excitement  had  entered 
into  his  brain  and  pushed  the  personal  bearing  of  the  case 
into  the  dim  background.  He  read  the  letters  A.  Z.  with 
a  vague  tumult  of  the  blood,  but  without  horror  or  keen 
regret.  He  touched  the  hat  with  his  stout  stick,  turned 
it  over,  and  examined  it  as  a  detective  might. 

'*  You  don't  remember  if  Aleck  wore  that  hat  when  he 
started  for  the  depot  ?"  he  said  to  Horace,  ,who  kept  close 
at  his  elbow. 

"  No,  I  didn't  see  him  start,"  the  latter  replied. 

"Whether  it  is  he  or  not — it  is  somebody  has  been 
killed." 

"  No  doubt  about  that." 

"And  the  body  must  be  somewhere.  Suppose  we  try  to 
find  it?" 

Somebody  had  in  the  meanwhile  discovered  bloody 
finger-marks  on  a  telegraph  pole,  and  the  intelligence  was 
eagerly  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  with  appropriate 
comments.  Instantly  the  crowd  began  to  surge  in  that 
direction  across  the  water-soaked  lot,  and  Mr.  Larkin  and 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  IO/ 

Horace  followed  the  general  impulse.  At  every  step  their 
feet  sank  into  the  wet  sod  and  made  a  sucking  sound  when 
they  strove  to  recover  them.  A  cold,  drizzling  rain  was 
beginning  to  fall ;  the  leaden  skies  trailed  their  vapory 
curtains  along  the  encompassing  hills,  and  the  valley  was 
steeped  in  dismal  moisture  and  mist.  Yet  the  enterprise 
of  the  leading  spirits  of  the  crowd  was  baffled  by  no  dis- 
couragements. Tommy  Colt,  who  had  been  the  first  to 
detect  the  finger-marks,  was  leading  a  reconnoitering 
party  which  with  excited  exclamations  were  pointing  out 
the  tracks  of  two  men,  the  prints  of  whose  boots  were  visi- 
ble in  the  sod.  They  had  apparently  now  dragged,  now 
carried,  a  heavy  body  between  them,  and  the  depressions 
in  the  turf  showed  plainly  where  they  had  dropped  and 
where  resumed  their  ghastly  burden.  At  the  sight  of  this 
unmistakable  evidence  Mr.  Larkin  started  forward  in  ad- 
vance of  the  rest,  staring  with  dilated  eyes  at  the  ground. 
Tommy  Colt  felt  himself  superseded,  but  dared  not  demur. 
The  old  man  paced  across  the  half-submerged  meadow, 
now  sticking  in  the  mud,  now  again  by  vigorous  efforts 
advancing.  In  one  place,  where  there  were  half-effaced 
traces  of  blood  upon  the  grass,  he  stopped  and  poked  the 
ferrule  of  his  cane  into  the  crimson  sod.  An  unfeeling 
agitation,  akin  to  that  which  seized  the  Romans  at  the  sight 
of  the  gladiatorial  games,  had  come  over  him,  and  the 
thought  that  the  body  which  had  crimsoned  this  sod  might 
be  that  of  one  who  had  been  dear  to  him,  had  no  place  in 
his  mind.  The  tracks  led  toward  a  deep  and  sluggish 
stream  (by  the  students  called  the  Nile)  into  which  two  con- 
siderable creeks  emptied.  The  Nile  wound  through  a  low 
and  marshy  delta  toward  the  lake.  Thither  then  poured 
the  dense  multitude  under  Mr.  Larkin's  lead,  dripping 
with  wet,  shivering  to  the  marrow  of  their  bones,  and  yet 
bent  upon  losing  no  share  of  the  sanguinary  horror.  On 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  which  was  swollen  from  recent 
thaws,  they  came  to  a  stop,  and  Mr.  Larkin  called  loudly 
for  boats  and  drag-nets.  A  couple  of  dozen  volunteers 
rushed  toward  the  boat-houses,  and  descending  suddenly 
upon  the  floating  pier,  upset  it  and  floundered  for  some 
moments  in  the  icy  water.  When  they  were  fished  out, 
others  proceeded  more  carefully  to  launch  the  boats  ;  drag- 
nets were  procured  and  a  systematic  search  began.  Mr. 
Larkin,  standing  upon  an  inverted  drygoods  box  which 
some  kindly  soul  had  brought  him,  gesticulated  with  his 
stick  and  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Every  now  and 


1O8  THE  MAMMON 

then,  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  an  important  command, 
the  exasperating  University  yell,  sounded  by  knots  of  the 
students,  scattered  in  the  crowd,  would  drown  his  voice  and 
try  his  temper.  He  felt  repeatedly  tempted  to  knock 
down  with  his  cane  the  first  student  that  came  in  his  way. 
For  a  full  hour  the  old  man  stood  on  his  drygoods  box 
in  the  rain,  shouting  his  directions  to  the  searchers.  The 
water  dripped  from  his  beard,  from  his  nose,  and  from  the 
rim  of  his  hat.  And  yet  he  was  not  cold.  The  excite- 
ment hurried  his  blood  at  a  quickened  speed  through  his 
veins.  As  the  drag-nets  seemed  to  bring  nothing  to  the 
surface  except  bull-heads  and  perch,  a  small  dredging 
machine  which  lay  at  the  mouth  of  the  stream  was  ordered 
up,  and  by  the  noisy  puffing  of  its  steam-engine  added  to 
the  turmoil  and  seemed  to  give  an  audible  expression  to 
the  excitement.  But  though  it  brought  a  variety  of 
things  to  the  light,  such  as  demoralized  hoop-skirts,  tree- 
roots,  and  various  kitchen  utensils  from  a  sunken  canal- 
boat  (all  of  which  were  hailed  with  the  University  yell), 
it  revealed  nothing  which  had  any  bearing  upon  the 
mystery.  Another  hour  passed  and  another.  It  was  about 
noon  when  two  boats,  which  had  trailed  a  drag-net  a  con- 
siderable distance  up  the  stream,  struck  something  which 
by  "the  feel  of  it  "  might  be  a  human  body.  The  discovery 
was  promptly  communicated  to  Mr.  Larkin,  who  started 
to  run  up  the  bank  while  the  mud  splashed  about  his  ears, 
followed  by  the  dripping  and  shivering  multitude.  The 
floating  pier,  again  upsetting,  gave  an  icy  mud-bath  to  a  score 
of  people,  but  so  great  was  the  excitement  that  scarcely 
anybody,  except  the  unfortunates  themselves,  gave  any 
heed  to  it.  Slowly,  amid  breathless  silence,  the  net  ap- 
proached the  surface.  Anxious  suspense  was  depicted  on 
every  face.  Mr.  Larkin  dropped  his  cane  and,  with  strain- 
ing eyes  and  loudly  thumping  heart,  leaned  out  over  the 
stream,  following  the  motions  of  the  men.  Now — but 
another  moment — now — an  indistinct  something  shimmers 
through  the  water.  There — it  is — it  is — a  body — oh,  God, 
what  is  it  ?  It  is  a  calf  !  A  burst  of  Homeric  laughter  rose 
from  one  part  of  the  crowd — that  part  which  contained  the 
students.  No  one  else  laughed;  least  of  all  Mr.  Larkin. 
He  descended  from  his  station  of  command  in  a  wrathful 
mood.  He  thrust  his  cane  so  hard  into  the  mud  that  he 
had  to  stop  to  pull  it  out.  Nobody  dared  to  speak  to  him; 
he  felt  a  burning  need  of  vengeance  upon  somebody.  He 
suddenly  remembered  that  a  petition  of  the  students  had 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  109 

been  shown  him,  some  days  ago,  by  a  member  of  the  faculty, 
asking  for  a  holiday  on  the  day  following  Washington's 
Birthday,  as  it  happened  to  be  a  Friday,  and  many  students 
desired  to  spend  this  little  vacation  in  their  homes.  He 
remembered  also  that  he  had  promptly  vetoed  the  proposi- 
tion (he  rather  liked  to  veto  propositions  coming  from  the 
students),  and  the  faculty  had,  as  usual,  registered  his  de- 
cree. It  required  no  great  ingenuity  to  guess  the  rest. 
The  students,  in  order  to  thwart  him  and  get  their  holiday, 
had  perpetrated  this  bogus  murder.  Learning  by  accident 
that  Aleck  was  going  to  New  York,  they  had  gotten 
possession  of  one  of  his  old  hats,  stolen  a  calf  from  a 
neighboring  farm,  killed  it  on  the  road  to  the  depot, 
dragged  it  over  the  empty  lots,  and  thrown  it  into  the  Nile. 
To  Mr.  Larkin  this  plot  had  no  humorous  aspect.  It 
represented  the  deepest  depth  of  human  depravity.  He 
was  prepared  to  see  every  man  who  had  participated  in  it 
find  his  legitimate  end  on  the  gallows.  If  he  only  knew 
who  the  miscreants  were,  he  would  show  them  that  he, 
too,  could  be  a  successful  humorist  ;  and  not  a  mother's 
son  of  them  but  should  carry  to  the  end  of  his  days  the 
remembrance  of  the  joke  he  would  play  upon  him.  He 
meant  to  teach  those  audacious  vagabonds  a  lesson  which 
would  cure  them  of  all  future  desire  to  trifle  with  his 
dignity.  He  meditated  for  some  moments  o,n  the  practi- 
cability of  cancelling  the  charter  of  the  University.  But 
that  required  legislative  action,  and  would,  moreover, 
expose  him  to  no  end  of  ridicule.  It  was,  perhaps,  better 
first  to  discover  the  guilty  parties,  and  have  them  summar- 
ily punished.  Only  that  appeared  to  Mr.  Larkin  rather  a 
lame  and  inadequate  retribution.  To  him  the  one  was  just 
as  guilty  as  the  other,  whether  cognizant  of  the  plot  or 
not,  and  he  hungered  for  vengeance  upon  the  whole  Uni- 
versity. While  he  was  revolving  his  vindictive  plans  a 
company  of  students  came  strolling  along  the  plank-walk. 
They  fell  into  single  file,  and  each  one  of  them  lifted  his 
hat  and  greeted  the  founder  with  demure  politeness.  Ah, 
but  that  was  a  trying  moment  for  the  Hon.  Obed  Larkin  ! 
He  saw  or  seemed  to  see  a  gleam  of  amusement  lurking  in 
every  eye  that  was  raised  to  his.  He  faced  half  about, 
with  clenched  teeth  and  his  legs  wide  apart,  and  grabbed 
the  stout  silver  handle  of  his  cane  with  a  convulsive  clutch. 
He  felt  an  enthusiastic  desire  to  assault  them — to  have  it 
out  with  them  on  the  spot.  But  at  that  very  instant  Ara- 
bella Robbins  and  Pussy  Dallas  came  tripping  along  under 


110  THE  MAMMON 

the  same  umbrella,  and  as  they  saw  the  wrathful  Obed 
they  chirruped  gayly :  "How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Larkin?" 
That  brought  him  quickly  to  his  senses.  He  could  not 
afford  to  be  seen  in  a  free  fight  with  the  students  of  his 
University  upon  the  common  highway.  He  growled  an 
ungracious  return  to  the  girls'  greeting,  swore  a  volumin- 
ous oath  in  the  depth  of  his  soul,  and  faced  once  more 
toward  the  town.  As  he  entered  his  library,  his  wife 
handed  him  a  telegram  from  Aleck,  informing  him  of  his 
safe  arrival  in  New  York  and  his  probable  return  on  the 
following  day. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  Ill 


CHAPTER  XII. 


The  Hon.  Obed  Larkin  caught  a  severe  cold,  which 
threatened  to  develop  into  pneumonia,  in  consequence  of 
his  strategic  operations  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  He  had 
an  instinctive  feeling  that  the  town  was  laughing  at  him,  and 
having  become  accustomed  to  look  upon  himself  as  an 
august  personage,  he  could  not  endure  the  thought  that 
his  name  was  being  taken  in  vain.  He  had  no  pride 
either  of  birth  or  blood,  but  he  liked  to  pose  a  little  as  a 
representative  American — a  self-made  man,  owing  every- 
thing to  his  own  ability  and  exertions  ;  and  he  was  apt  to 
find  himself  in  this  capacity  an  impressive  and  dignified 
character.  His  fellow-citizens  had  humored  him  in  this 
conceit  until  it  had  become  part  of  his  being.  And  now, 
in  order  to  shirk  their  own  share  in  the  foolish  business, 
they  made  him  their  scapegoat  and  laughed  at  him  with 
amused  superiority,  as  if  they  had  seen  through  the  joke 
from  the  beginning. 

When  the  danger  of  pneumonia  was  past,  Mr.  Larkin 
was  laid  up  for  a  week  with  an  attack  of  rheumatism, 
which  he  also  traced  to  the  unhappy  Nile  expedition. 
The  purpose  of  getting  even  with  the  students  had  by  this 
time  become  an  idee  fixe  with  him  ;  and,  like  the  pious 
vEneas,  he  revolved  a  good  many  impious  projects  in  his 
sleepless  nights.  He  finally  directed  Horace  to  write 
to  the  Pinkerton  Bureau  for  two  expert  detectives,  who 
might  enter  some  special  department  in  the  university, 
get  into  the  confidence  of  the  students,  and  procure  evi- 
dence for  the  conviction  of  the  guilty  parties.  It  took 
Horace  a  week  of  ingenious  argument  and  persuasion  to 
induce  his  uncle  to  give  up  this  unworthy  scheme,  and  he 
used  to  say,  in  after  years,  that  he  had  never  argued  a 
more  difficult  case  before  any  court.  That  Aleck  joined 
his  persuasions  to  those  of  his  brother  had  very  little 
weight  with  the  old  gentleman,  because  he  held  Aleck's 
practical  judgment  in  light  esteem. 


112  THE  MAMMON 

The  faculty  of  the  university  had,  in  the  meanwhile, 
with  Mr.  Larkin's  consent,  taken  up  the  affair,  and 
begun  a  trial,  which  soon  degenerated  into  broad  bur- 
lesque. A  mass  of  the  most  bewilderingly  contradictory 
evidence  was  elicited  which  would  have  driven  to  despair 
the  astutest  judge  in  Christendom.  One  rural-looking 
sophomore,  whose  mind  seemed  as  dense  as  his  vocabulary 
was  limited,  testified  that  he  had  frequently  killed  calves 
and  knew  how  it  was  done,  but  disclaimed  all  knowledge 
of  the  present  case.  When  asked  what  his  character  and 
standing  were  in  the  university,  he  replied  that  his  char- 
acter was  licentious.  Such  frankness  naturally  astounded 
the  learned  faculty,  and  they  were  inclined  to  believe  that 
they  had  at  last  caught  one  of  the  transgressors,  when  it 
occurred  to  Professor  Wharton  to  ask  the  witness  what 
he  meant  by  the  term  "licentious."  The  youth  replied 
that  he  had  taken  more  license  than  he  ought  to  have 
done,  absenting  himself  from  dull  lectures  and  recitations, 
such  as  Professor  P 's  and  Professor  N 's. 

"  I  guess  I've  cut  you  more'n  anybody,"  he  added,  guile- 
lessly, to  his  questioner,  at  which,  to  Professor  Wharton's 
great  annoyance,  a  perceptible  snicker  ran  around  the 
room. 

There  was  some  dispute  when  this  young  man  had  been 
dismissed,  as  to  whether  he  was  as  innocent  as  he  ap- 
peared. About  thirty  more  witnesses  were  called,  and 
rigidly  cross-examined  ;  but  it  soon  became  obvious  that 
there  was  a  conspiracy  among  them  to  "  guy  "  their  pros- 
ecutors, and,  as  the  latter  had  no  judicial  authority  and 
could  not  punish  for  "  contempt,"  they  could  not  prevent 
the  students  from  getting  the  better  of  them.  A  few  of 
the  professors,  who  were  gifted  with  more  zeal  than 
humor,  plumped  right  into  the  traps  which  had  been  set 
for  them,  lost  their  temper,  and  gave  occasion  for  the  most 
farcical  proceedings.  The  only  thing  which  was  estab- 
lished by  the  trial  was  the  fact  that  six  students,  whose 
names  were  ascertained,  had  met,  the  evening  before  the 
untimely  taking  off  of  the  calf,  in  the  so-called  Bayerhof, 
a  temperance  restaurant,  kept  by  a  voluminous  German 
named  Schnabel.  This  Schnabel,  who  had  formerly  kept  a 
beer  saloon,  was  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  the  good  temper- 
ance people  of  the  town  ;  as  it  was  more  than  suspected 
that  he  was  growing  rich  by  violation  of  the  excise  law. 
Although  the  town  had,  at  the  last  election,  voted  "  no 
license,"  this  impudent  foreigner  still  flaunted  a  jolly 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  113 

Gambrinus  riding  on  a  beer-keg  in  the  face  of  an  outraged 
community.  That  students  visited  his  place  in  the  small 
hours  of  the  night  for  the  sake  of  procuring  coffee  and 
lemonade  seemed  a  little  incredible,  though  Schnabel 
himself  maintained,  with  a  sober  face,  that  such  was  the 
case. 

"  De  yoong  beoples,  dey  set  up  in  de  nide  unt  read  for 
dem  egsaminations  ;  unt  dey  get  hoongry — dem  poor  poys 
— unt  dey  gome  to  me,  unt  dey  say  to  me  :  'Mishter  Schna- 
bel, gib  us  ein  stiick  Frankfurter  sausage  mit  coffee  unt 
Schweitzer  kase  unt  bretzel/  Unt  mein  vife  unt  me,  ve 
haf  to  get  up  oud  of  der  varm  bet  unt  fry  Frankfurter 
wurst  for  dem  hoongry  poys  vhen  deir  landladies'  noses 
snores  in  deir  billows.  For  dem  landladies  vill  not  get  up 
to  gib  the  poys  sometings  to  eat  in  de  nide,  vhen  dey 
shtudy  for  dem  egsaminations." 

The  plea  of  charity  to  hungry  wasters  of  the  midnight 
oil  might  have  been  accepted  as  good,  if  the  patrons  of  the 
Bayerhof  had  belonged  to  that  worthy  class.  But  it  was 
notorious  that  the  young  gentlemen  who  roused  Schnabel 
and  his  spouse  from  their  slumbers  did  not  owe  their  repu- 
tations to  their  eminence  in  scholastic  pursuits.  When  it 
was  accordingly  ascertained  that  six  undergraduate  roys- 
terers  had,  on  the  night  of  Washington's  Birthday,  met  in 
his  saloon,  the  virtuous  wrath  of  the  town  suddenly  turned 
from  the  calf-slayers  to  Carl  Schnabel,  who,  by  selling  them 
liquor,  had  instigated  them  to  evil-doing.  After  consulta- 
tion with  Mr.  Larkin,  Professors  Wharton  and  Dowd  called 
upon  the  police  magistrate  and  swore  out  a  warrant  for 
Schnabel's  arrest.  The  trial,  which  was  set  down  for  the 
following  day,  was  the  all-absorbing  topic  of  discussion 
both  in  town  and  university  circles.  Mr.  Schnabel  made 
an  attempt,  though  a  futile  one,  to  secure  Horace  Larkin 
for  his  counsel,  and  finally  had  to  telegraph  for  a  lawyer  from 
Rochester,  as  all  local  attorneys  of  any  standing  refused, 
on  account  of  his  unpopularity,  to  defend  him.  The  Ro- 
chester attorney  was  prompt  to  arrive,  and  made  haste  to  in- 
terview the  students  upon  whose  testimony  the  case  hinged. 

The  court-house  was  packed  with  people  when  Mr. 
Schnabel  was  brought  forward  to  plead.  He  was,  of  course, 
"  not  guilty  ;  "  but  there  was  a  troubled  look  in  his  eye, 
when  he  saw  the  long  rows  of  students  whom  the  prosecu- 
tion had  summoned  to  testify  against  him.  The  first  of 
these  who  was  called  to  the  witness-stand  relieved,  however, 
his  anxiety  by  swearing  that,  as  far  as  he  knew,  he  had 


114  THE  MAMMOJV 

never  drunk  lager  beer  in  Schnabel's  temperance  restau- 
rant. 

"  Have  you  drunk  anything  there  ? "  asked  the  court. 

"Yes."  " 

<4  What  have  you  drunk  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure.  " 

"What  did  you  order?  "  queried  the  court,  impatiently. 

"  Tomato  catsup." 

"  And  did  you  get  tomato  catsup  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  How  is  it  that  you  don't  know  ?" 

"  I  could  not  swear  that  it  was  tomato  catsup.  I  am  not 
an  expert  on  tomato  catsup." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  not  beer  you  drank  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  You  are  not  sure  ?" 

"  No.     I  am  not  an  expert  on  beer." 

"Not  an  expert  on  beer,   hm  !     Did  it  look  like  beer?" 

"  I  could  not  tell." 

"  Are  you  in  the  habit  of  drinking  tomato  catsup  ? " 

"  Well,  since  the  town  voted  '  no  license  '  I  am  obliged 
to  drink  whatever  I  can  get." 

"  Why,  then,  don't  you  drink  water  ?" 

"  It  doesn't  agree  with  me.  Besides,  I've  been  told  that 
the  water  in  this  town  is  bad." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  swear  that  you  never  drank  beer  in 
Schnabel's  restaurant  ?" 

"  No." 

"  You  are  not  willing  to  swear  that  ?  Then,  you  must 
be  willing  to  swear  that  you  have  drunk  beer  there  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  you  don't  seriously  maintain  that  you  drank  tomato 
catsup  ? " 

"  I  ordered  tomato  catsup." 

One  witness  after  another  was  now  called  and  gave  similar 
testimony.  One  declared  that  he  had  never  ordered  any- 
thing but  Oolong  tea  ;  and  when  asked  if  what  he  got 
tasted  like  Oolong  tea,  he  affirmed  that  he  was  not  an  ex- 
pert on  tea.  Another  had  a  standing  order  for  "Mocha" 
whenever  he  entered,  and  a  third  was  always  served  with 
"  Java."  All  had  such  profound  respect  for  the  sanctity  of 
the  oath  that  they  were  unwilling  to  swear  that  what  they 
got  was  beer  or  was  not  beer  ;  they  had  never  made  a  suffi- 
cient study  of  beer  to  justify  them  in  having  an  opinion. 
The  most  ludicrous  answers  were  given  with  imperturbable 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  115 

gravity,  and  were  greeted  by  the  audience  with  uncon- 
trollable bursts  of  laughter.  The  judge  vainly  hammered 
away  at  his  desk  with  his  gavel,  and  threatened  to  have  the 
court-room  cleared,  in  case  any  one  dared  to  make  de- 
monstrations inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  a  tribunal  of 
justice.  Nevertheless,  he  did  not  carry  out  his  threat 
when  the  next  funny  answer  occasioned  another  outburst 
of  hilarity.  He  was  quick  to  perceive  that  the  sentiment 
of  the  crowd  had  turned  in  favor  of  the  young  men,  and 
the  severity  of  his  mien  relaxed.  He  did  not  question  that, 
in  a  superficial  sense,  they  were  telling  the  truth.  Each 
one  of  them  had  obviously  agreed  with  Schnabel  upon  an 
alias  for  beer,  one  calling  it  tomato  catsup,  another  Oolong, 
and  a  third  Mocha.  The  cleverness  of  this  dodge  evidently 
appealed  to  the  crowd  ;  and  the  judge,  who  in  his  private 
capacity  enjoyed  a  joke  as  well  as  any  one,  could  not  find 
it  in  his  heart  to  be  too  severe  on  them.  He  therefore  dis- 
missed the  case  for  want  of  proof,  and  Schnabel,  with  a  sly 
wink,  resumed  his  activity  as  an  apostle  of  the  cause  of  tem- 
perance. 


Il6  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DIVINE    DISCONTENT. 

To  a  person  who  rises  from  a  severe  illness  the  aspect 
of  life  seems  often  strangely  changed.  Common  things 
which  before  seemed  worthless  become  valuable  and  sig- 
nificant. The  convalescent  returns,  like  a  traveller  from 
the  borderland  of  death,  and  his  wonted  surroundings 
have,  at  first,  a  vague  air  of  strangeness,  and  have  to  re- 
adjust themselves  according  to  a  changed  standard  of 
valuation. 

It  was  the  merciful  apathy  consequent  upon  physical 
exhaustion  which  had  dulled  the  struggle  of  emotions  in 
Gertrude's  breast,  and  thereby  saved  her  life  at  a  time 
when  the  faintest  gust  of  passion  might  have  blown  out 
the  feeble  flame  of  her  being.  As  her  strength  returned, 
and  her  senses  slowly  reawakened,  a  light  veil  seemed  to 
have  been  drawn  over  her  past  through  which  memories 
shone  dimly  with  a  shadowy  pallor.  She  knew  that 
something  of  a  vital  character  had  occurred  between  Dr. 
Hawk  and  herself,  but  she  found  it  unnecessary  to  rouse 
herself  to  a  realization  of  what  it  was.  The  verses  of  Omar 
Khayyam  came  floating  toward  her  like  a  soundless  mel- 
ody from  "an  immeasurable  distance,"  and  they  haunted 
her  with  a  nightmarish  persistency,  though  she  could  only 
remember  a  few  detached  but  fascinating  phrases.  And 
yet  to  ask  the  doctor  to  repeat  them  would  seem  like  an 
approach,  on  her  part,  and  an  invitation  to  resume  sen- 
timental relations.  His  comings  and  goings  were  yet 
matters  of  deep  concern  to  her,  and  his  voice  was  yet  po- 
tent to  charge  her  nerves  with  vibrating  excitement. 
Her  interest  in  him  seemed  to  return  with  her  returning 
strength  ;  and  although  she  tried  to  keep  it,  as  it  were, 
at  arm's  length,  prohibiting  it  from  stepping  too  near,  she 
was  not  entirely  successful.  The  doctor's  spasmodic 
visits,  which,  after  long  absences,  were  crowded  into  a 
single  week,  to  be  followed  again  by  conspicuous  neglect, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  1 1/ 

occupied  her  mind  more  than  she  suspected.  Of  course 
she  possessed  the  key  to  the  interpretation  of  this  strange 
irregularity,  and  she  could  not  help  applying  it  in  a  way 
that  was  flattering  to  her  self-esteem.  The  doctor's  con- 
duct said,  as  plainly  as  actions  could  say  it,  that  he  was 
struggling  with  an  overmastering  passion,  which  he  was 
combating  with  all  his  strength,  suffering  yet  defeats 
which  were,  to  Gertrude's  mind,  no  less  honorable  to  his 
character  than  his  victories.  The  fact,  too,  that  his  quar- 
rel with  Aleck,  which,  in  a  distorted  form  reached  her 
ears,  did  not  impel  him  to  break  off  all  relations  with 
a  house  in  which  he  had  suffered  such  an  insult,  argued 
to  her  a  heroic  streak  in  his  temperament.  Even  the 
horrible  humiliation  which  he  had  suffered  in  being  sub- 
jected to  police  surveillance  for  half  a  day,  he  had  borne 
in  dignified  silence  ;  and  the  whole  ghastly  farce,  in  which 
he  had  involuntarily  played  a  part,  had  roused  in  him  no 
desire  for  vengeance.  Gertrude  could  not  doubt  that  it 
was  his  love  for  her  which  furnished  the  explanation  of 
this  unreasonable  magnanimity;  and  although  she  had 
persuaded  herself  that  she  did  not  return  this  love,  she 
was  yet  vexed  with  Aleck  for  placing  obstacles  in  its  way. 
To  gain  a  respite  from  importunate  thoughts,  Gertrude 
began  again  o  sketch  and  to  model  in  clay.  She  found 
her  abortive  ttempt  at  a  bas-relief  dried  and  cracked  on 
the  board,  •-  d  Nettie,  the  chambermaid,  who  was  sent  to 
bring  it  d-  <  n  from  the  attic  lost  half  of  it  on  the  way. 
It  was  the  head  of  a  nun — and  a  very  aristocratic  one — 
who  had  been  shut  up  in  a  convent  by  her  wicked  rela- 
tives. A  nun  had  always  appeared  to  Gertrude  a  poetic 
character  ;  and  she  had'  once  had  herself  photographed 
with  a  hood  and  brow-band,  to  see  how  she  would  look,  in 
case  she  should  ever  decide  to  become  one.  She  felt  in 
herself  a  capacity  both  for  renunciation  and  for  high- 
minded  rebellion  against  tyranny  which  could  only  find 
their  proper  expression,  if  she  were  a  nun.  The  fact  was, 
she  felt  in  herself  an  inexhaustible  capacity  for  any  and 
every  emotion  that  for  the  moment  appeared  interesting. 
Having  procured  fresh  clay,  she  set  to  work  again  with 
enthusiasm,  and  labored  for  three  days,  with  alternations 
of  zeal  and  despair,  at  the  idea  which  she  meant  to  express. 
But  her  criticism  was  always  so  far  in  advance  of  her  skill 
that  she  never  could  finish  anything  without  feeling  a 
desire  to  smash  it.  She  had,  indeed,  no  doubt  as  to  the 
excellence  of  her  ideas.  But  there  was  a  perverse  spirit 


Il8  THE  MAMMON 

in  her  fingers  which  made  them  decline  to  do  what  she 
wanted  them  to  do — which  made  them  pervert  her  fine  in- 
tentions into  something  awkward  and  commonplace.  She 
dipped  into  Ruskin  in  the  hope  of  getting  some  guidance 
from  him,  and  learned  incidentally  that  she  ought  to  study 
that  which  was  near  and  familiar,  and  that  the  unspoiled 
human  foot  was  a  very  beautiful  combination  of  harmon- 
ious curves.  With  an  impulsiveness  characteristic  of  her 
ardent  temperament  she  pulled  off  her  shoes  and  stock- 
ings and  began  to  study  her  feet.  Yes,  Ruskin  was  right— 
they  were,  on  the  whole,  quite  good.  Large,  full  gener- 
ous lines — high  instep — only  the  little  toe  was  a  trifle  dis- 
torted and  adorned  with  a  corn.  Gertrude  became  pos- 
sessed with  a  desire  to  model  them.  She  covered  up  her 
nun  with  a  damp  cloth,  and  seizing  her  modelling  sticks 
carved  out  rapidly  the  shape  of  a  foot.  She  drew  the 
hearth-rug  of  tiger-skin  forward,  put  her  chair  and  easel 
upon  it,  and  placed  against  the  fender  a  mirror,  in  which 
one  projecting  foot  was  clearly  reflected.  She  stooped 
every  now  and  then  to  measure  its  breadth,  length,  and 
width  with  a  pair  of  compasses,  and  became  so  absorbed  in 
her  work  that  she  did  not  hear  a  knock  at  the  door  which 
was  several  times  repeated.  She  hummed  and  talked  to 
herself,  making  exclamations  of  encouragement  and  ap- 
proval, or  of  criticism. 

"  Now,  Gertie,  that  won't  do,"  she  would  say  as  she  eyed 
a  clumsily  modelled  form,  "you  know  better  than  that." 
Or  again,  when  a  little  lightness  of  touch  gave  her  pleas- 
ure, "  Gertie,  my  dear  girl,  that  was  well  done  ;  I  ap- 
prove of  you." 

She  was  in  the  midst  of  such  a  soliloquy  when  the  knob 
of  the  door  was  cautiously  turned,  and  she  saw  Dr.  Hawk's 
swarthy  face  appear  in  the  opening. 

"  May  I  come  in  ? "  he  asked,  with  an  expression  of  sur- 
prise at  seeing  her  occupation.  "Mr.  Larkin  begged  me 
to  pay  you  a  professional  visit." 

Gertrude  jumped  up  in  confusion,  and  suddenly  re- 
membering the  incompleteness  of  her  toilet,  threw  herself 
down  on  the  sofa  and  drew  her  feet  up  under  her  dress. 
It  did  not  occur  to  her,  until  he  had  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him,  that  she  might  have  prevented  him  from  en- 
tering. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  began,  as  he  slowly  approached  her  ; 
"  but  I  supposed  you  were  ill  in  bed.  Your  father  told 
me  you  had  not  been  down  to  dinner." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  119 

"  No,  I  forgot  it,"  she  answered,  hastily  ;  "  I  had  some- 
thing to  do." 

"  Forgot  your  dinner,"  he  repeated,  reproachfully. 
"  Then  your  occupation,  whatever  it  was,  must  have  been 
very  absorbing." 

"  It  was — quite  absorbing." 

His  eyes  fell  suddenly  upon  the  lump  of  wet  clay  in  a 
box  on  the  floor,  and  the  still  uncovered  foot  on  the  stand. 

"  But,  my  dear  young  lady,  what  is  this  ?  "  he  exclaimed, 
pointing  to  these  surprising  objects.  "  Are  you  emulat- 
ing Phidias  ?" 

"  No,"  she  replied,  blushing  as  if  she  had  been  caught 
at  something  disgraceful.  "  I  am  only  killing  time." 

"  Time  I  believe  has  always  been  your  enemy,"  the  doc-  f 
tor  remarked. 

"It  is  every  woman's  enemy,  unless  she  knows  some- 
thing." 

She  picked  up  a  sketch-book,  and  in  order  to  relieve  her 
embarrassment  began  to  turn  its  leaves  with  an  air  of  in- 
terest. 

"  You  appear  to  have  a  quarrel  with  woman's  lot  in  gen- 
eral," her  visitor  went  on  tentatively. 

"  To  a  woman  of  spirit  that  is  all  that  her  lot  is  good  for. " 

"  To  quarrel  with  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  then  find  yours  so  unsatisfactory  ?  " 

"Yes — I  have — the  divine  discontent"  she  said,  raising  her 
eyes  to  his,  and  smiling  vaguely. 

"  That  is  something  I  can't  prescribe  for.  It  is  a  mal- 
ady which,  like  the  gout,  is  painful,  but  confers  a  cer- 
tain distinction." 

She  made  no  reply  to  this  ;  but  seized  a  pencil,  and  be- 
gan to  scribble  on  a  blank  page  of  her  sketch-book.  He 
turned  toward  the  easel,  upon  which  the  covered  bas-re- 
lief was  standing.  Without  asking  permission  he  removed 
the  cloth,  and  with  a  look  of  great  intentness  scanned  the 
medallion.  Gertrude  cast  glances  full  of  veiled  anxiety 
at  his  face,  over  the  top  of  the  sketch-book.  She  wished 
to  appear  unconcerned;  but- a  dim  agitation  was  smoul- 
dering in  her  nerves. 

"  That's  a  bit  of  autobiography,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Hawk, 
after  a  distressingly  long  pause. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  It  is  a  sort  of  personification  of  the  divine  discon- 
tent." 


I2O  THE  MAMMON 

"  Is  it  ?  "  she  queried  a  little  hypocritically  ;  "  I  wasn't 
aware  of  it." 

"  Tell  that  to  the  marines,"  he  retorted,  brusquely. 
"  That  rebellious  curl  of  the  lip — I  know  the  original  of 
that.  That  beautiful  scorn — the  same  that  you  find  in  the 
lips  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere — the  lofty  contempt  for 
life's  pestiferous  little  meannesses — I  know,  too,  where  that 
came  from.  The  chorus  of  whining,  droning,  and  buzzing 
dunghill  insects,  blending  into  a  dull  and  hollow  mono- 
tone, instead  of  lulling  her  soul  to  sleep  has  made  her 
conscious  of  her  superiority.  That  chin,  so  nobly  strong 
and  stubborn,  proclaims  perseverance  in  rebellion,  defiance 
of  Fate.  The  hood  and  the  brow-band  which  hold  all  this 
strength  and  loveliness  in  their  dull  frame  are  Torry- 
ville — the  stolid,  listless,  narrowly  self-satisfied  Torryville, 
where  an  aspiration  beyond  bread  and  butter  is  in  man 
an  oddity  and  in  woman  a  crime." 

Gertrude's  sketch-book  had  dropped  in  her  lap  ;  she  lis- 
tened first  with  interest,  then  with  rapture,  and  when  he 
had  finished  she  sprang  up,  forgetful  of  her  bare  feet ;  but 
flung  herself  instantly  down  again,  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands.  She  was  ashamed  of  her  excitement,  but  could 
not  control  it.  Never  yet  had  anyone  spoken  thus  out 
of  her  very  heart.  Never  had  she  hoped  to  find  in  any  one 
such  a  subtle  understanding  of  her  innermost  self.  A  man 
who  was  gifted  with  so  deep  a  vision — was  he  to  be  judged 
by  the  ordinary  Philistine  standard  ?  If  he  was  different 
from  others,  the  difference  was  to  his  credit.  The  last 
shadow  of  distrust  of  the  doctor  vanished  from  Gertrude's 
heart.  She  saw  with  a  suddenly  clarified  sight  the  gran- 
deur of  this  man  whom  she  had  so  long  misjudged.  She 
felt  his  dark,  sad  eyes  resting  upon  her,  as  she  lay  there 
foolishly  ashamed  of  her  emotion.  She  became  now,  in 
turn,  ashamed  of  her  shame  ;  and  with  an  effort  at  self- 
mastery  rose  slowly  to  a  half-sitting  posture,  and  fixed 
upon  the  doctor  a  large,  frank  gaze,  full  of  devotion  and 
gratitude.  Hawk,  who  instantly  felt  what  this  glance 
meant,  turned  his  back  upon  the  nun,  seized  a  chair,  and 
seated  himself  close  to  the  lounge.  A  gentle  warmth 
seemed  to  be  radiating  from  her,  and  rippled  beneficently 
through  his  veins.  If  there  had  been  a  spark  of  simple 
straightforward  manhood  in  him,  he  could  now  have 
plucked  the  fruit  which  hung  trembling  on  its  stalk,  ready 
to  drop  into  his  lap.  But  the  flush  of  anticipated  victory, 
which  would  have  made  another  man  happily  unconscious, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  121 


made  Hawk  conscious  to  his  very  finger-tips.  He  had  to 
play  his  little  comedy,  even  at  the  risk  of  unforeseen 
catastrophes. 

"  Miss  Gertrude,"  he  began,  in  a  tenderly  tremulous 
bass,  which  betrayed  traces  of  elocution,  "if  I  dared  speak 
to  you  as  my  heart  prompts  me  to  speak— 

"  Why  should  you  not  speak  to  me  ? "  she  murmured, 
blushing  furiously. 

"  Ah,  my  child,  you  do  not  know  me  !  you  do  not  know 
me  !  "  he  muttered,  in  a  despairing  voice. 

"Yes,  I  do  know  you,"  she  protested,  warmly,  lifting 
upon  him  a  look  of  affectionate  reassurance.  He  met  her 
gaze  firmly  ;  but  there  was  nothing  but  a  cold  and  some- 
what forced  melancholy  in  the  glance  with  which  he  strove 
to  respond.  A  dissonance — a  shadow — something  too  im- 
palpable for  words  to  express,  stole  in  between  them. 

Suddenly,  like  the  going  out  of  a  spark,  the  tender  light 
in  her  eyes  was  quenched,  leaving  a  chilly  vacuum  in  its 
place. 

"  Miss  Gertrude,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  shook  with 
pleading  humility  ;  "  do  not  judge  me,  do  not  judge  me, 
until  I  tell  you  all." 

He  rose  with  slow  and  deliberate  movements,  seized  his 
hat  and  stalked  toward  the  door.  A  dramatic  exit  he  did 
not  fail  to  achieve,  even  though  the  scene  which  led  up  to 
it  may  have  been  unsatisfactory.  No  sooner  had  the  door 
closed  behind  him  than  Gertrude  jumped  up  in  a  tumult 
of  anger,  confusion,  and  shame,  ran  toward  the  bed  and 
flinging  herself  on  the  top  of  the  counterpane  buried  her 
burning  face  in  the  pillows.  Her  head  was  in  a  whirl. 
She  lay  thus  for  a  while  in  a  benumbed  lethargy,  through 
which  a  dull  pain  was  throbbing.  She  could  not  make 
clear  to  herself  what  had  happened  or  whether  anything 
had  happened  ;  she  only  had  an  aching  sense  of  humilia- 
tion and  a  dim  desire  to  hurt  somebody  in  return  for  the 
hurt  she  had  suffered.  She  had  actually  been  ready  to 
throw  herself  into  that  man's  embrace,  if  he  had  but 
opened  his  arms  to  receive  her.  She  had,  under  the  im- 
pression that  he  needed  encouragement,  almost  invited 
him  to  propose  to  her — and  he  had  coolly  repelled  her. 
But  was  it  really  true  that  he  had  repelled  her  ?  Ger- 
trude's heart  found  itself,  before  long,  pleading  the  doc- 
tor's cause,  trying  to  convince  itself  that  he  had  really 
meant  no  harm.  Men  had  a  way  of  misrepresenting  their 
own  intentions  by  sheer  awkwardness.  How  could  he, 


122  THE  MAMMON 

who  knew  so  well  her  worth,  who  had  in  such  beautiful 
words  interpreted  her  innermost  longings,  how  could  he 
wish  to  repel  her  ?  No,  it  was  merely  his  foolish  loyalty, 
his  sense  of  obligation,  to  that  wretched  girl  who  had  in- 
vested her  money  in  him  and  taken  a  chattel  mortgage  on 
his  affections,  it  was  this  which  had  made  him  behave  so 
abominably.  Gertrude  arose  with  this  consoling  reflec- 
tion, dipped  her  face  in  cold  water  at  the  washstand,  and 
rang  for  her  maid.  When  her  toilet  was  completed  she 
ordered  her  phaeton ;  but  after  a  moment's  deliberation 
countermanded  the  order,  and  sat  down  to  work  at  her 
medallion.  But,  somehow,  she  could  not  summon  any  in- 
terest in  the  work.  Her  nun  with  the  disdainful  lips 
seemed  a  hideous  caricature.  The  more  she  looked  at 
her  the  more  insufferable  she  became.  There  was  a  re- 
vival of  angry  feeling  in  Gertrude's  breast  as  she  sat  con- 
templating her  cherished  creation.  All  the  doctor's  fine 
phrases  recurred  to  her,  one  by  one,  and  her  hard-won 
equanimity  deserted  her.  In  a  fit  of  disgust  she  seized 
the  modelling  sticks,,  and  made  a  deep  gash  in  the  face  of 
her  counterfeit. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  123 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

TROUBLED      WATERS. 

The  sun  was  bright  and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  rush 
of  many  waters.  Down  through  the  deep  ravines  swollen 
creeks  came  tumbling,  plunging  with  a  thundering  boom 
over  the  rocky  precipices,  hurrying  heedlessly  on  with 
noisy  brawl  and  strife,  seething  and  swirling  in  the  smooth, 
black  caldrons,  blowing  hissing  gusts  of  spray  through 
the  bare  tree-tops,  whirling,  dancing,  rolling,  and  rumbling 
on,  hurling  their  great  tawny  torrents  down  the  slope, 
winding  in  tortuous  eddies  through  the  plain  below,  and 
emptying  through  a  ramified  delta  into  the  lake,  where 
their  progress  was  still  traceable  as  a  broad,  brown  cur- 
rent, slowly  blending  into  the  clearer  encompassing  waters. 
Up  among  the  leafless  underbrush  rose  a  tiny  chorus  of 
rippling  and  tinkling  murmurs — now  a  gay  little  glassy 
treble,  now  a  hushed  little  gurgling  hum — from  diminutive 
rills  that  meandered  at  their  own  sweet  will  under  the  tree- 
roots  and  over  the  stones,  uniting  and  separating  again, 
vanishing  under  the  bowlders,  and  glinting  again  in  the 
sunlight,  playing  hide  and  seek  with  each  other,  until  all 
of  a  sudden  their  slender  lives  were  lost  in  the  wildly 
hurrying  torrent. 

The  air  was  raw,  in  spite  of  the  sun.  Wandering  gusts 
of  warm  dampness  kept  careering  through  the  atmosphere 
and  stroked  your  face  like  a  caress  ;  but  from  the  great 
icy  caverns  under  the  Drum-Head  Fall,  where  the  blue 
icicles  yet  hung  in  solid  columns,  an  insidious  chill  per- 
vaded the  very  sunlight,  warning  you  against  a  rash  confi- 
dence in  the  promises  of  spring. 

Gertrude  Larkin,  having  exhausted  the  allurements  of 
the  plastic  art,  had  yielded  to  a  vague  restlessness  in  her 
blood,  and  had  started  out  on  foot  toward  the  Drum-Head 
Ravine,  where  she  concluded  the  trailing  arbutus  must 
now  be  in  bloom.  It  seemed  to  her  that  this  winter  had 
lasted  a  century,  and  she  hungered  for  a  whiff  of  spring. 
She  was  weary  of  thinking  of  Dr,  Hawk,  with  his  incal- 


124  THE  MAMMON 

culable  capers — weary  of  hating,  and  weary  of  loving  him 
— weary  of  inventing  reasons  for  his  enigmatical  actions — 
weary  of  her  own  weariness — weary  of  everything.  She 
loathed  Dr.  Hawk,  she  loathed  herself,  she  loathed  the 
whole  world.  But  in  that  frame  of  mind  she  found  it  im- 
possible to  sit  still ;  and  driven  by  an  impulse  to  move, 
she  had  found  her  way  to  the  ravine.  On  the  bridge, 
under  which  there  was  a  great  swash  of  whirling  and  tos- 
sing waters,  she  met  the  Rev.  Arthur  Robbir.s,  who,  arrayed 
in  a  new  spring  overcoat  and  a  shining  beaver  of  the  latest 
fashion,  was  picking  his  way  along  the  little  dry  path  at 
the  edge  of  the  road. 

"Well,  Miss  Gertrude,"  he  said,  lifting  his  hat  and  shak- 
ing off  a  drop  of  water  which  some  heedless  tree  had  de- 
posited on  it.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  the  roses  returning." 

"  I  have  not  seen  them  yet,  Mr.  Robbins,"  she  replied  ; 
"they  never  come  until  June." 

"  Ah,  my  child,  I  meant  the  roses  in  your  cheeks,"  ejacu- 
lated the  parson,  cheerily. 

The  doctor's  haunting  quotation,  "  I  sometimes  think 
that  never  blooms  so  red  the  rose  as  where  some  buried 
Caesar  bled,"  flitted  through  her  mind;  and  as  no  appro- 
priate remark  occurred  to  her,  she  leaned  over  the  railing 
and  stared  at  the  water.  Mr.  Robbins,  who  also  discovered 
something  to  interest  him  in  the  brown  torrent,  put  one 
neatly-shod  foot  on  the  middle  rail  and  leaning  forward 
followed  with  his  eyes  the  swirling  rapids. 

"  It  is  not  quite  well  with  you  yet,  Miss  Gertie,"  he  said, 
after  a  while  ;  "you  have  something  on  your  mind — some- 
thing that  distresses  you." 

'*  That  I  have  always  had,  as  long  as  I  can  remember," 
she  answered,  with  forced  lightness;  "  I  cannot  recall  the 
time  when  I  was  not  distressed  about  something.  There 
are  some  people,  you  know,  who  happen  to  put  the  wrong 
foot  foremost  when  they  enter  the  world  and  are  unable  to 
rectify  the  mistake  by  anything  they  do  afterward.  I  am 
one  of  those  people." 

"  My  dear  girl,"  the  clergyman  went  on,  while  watching 
with  visible  interest  the  gyrations  of  a  dry  branch  in  an 
eddy,  "I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  business  to  pry  into 
your  secrets,  especially  as  you  have  always  rebuffed  me. 
But  I  can't  help  taking  an  interest  in  you,  you  know.  The 
life  you  lead  is  unnatural  for  a  young  girl — it  is  not  whole- 
some— not  as  it  ought  to  be." 

There  was  a  note  of  sincere  friendliness  in  this  apolo- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  125 

getic  remonstrance  which  touched  Gertrude.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  there  was  help  here  for  her  trouble  ?  She  re- 
spected Mr.  Robbins  as  an  upright  and  kind-hearted  man  ; 
but  she  had  never  suspected  in  him  any  sympathy  with 
her  own  complex  and  intangible  afflictions.  Besides,  she 
vaguely  objected  to  him  as  the  father  of  Arabella,  whose 
airs  and  capers  he  ought  to  have  corrected,  instead  of  en- 
couraging them  by  petting  and  foolish  admiration.  His 
words,  however,  in  the  present  moment,  appealed  to  some- 
thing within  her  which  responded,  before  she  had  time  to 
reflect  upon  her  previous  estimate  of  his  limitations.  She 
fixed  upon  him  her  deep  blue  eyes  with  their  cloudy  sug- 
gestions ;  and  they  lighted  up  with  a  quickened  anima- 
tion. 

"  Tell  me,  Mr.  Robbins,"  she  said,  quite  unconscious  at 
first  of  the  conundrum  she  was  about  to  propound  ;  "  what 
kind  of  life  is  natural  for  a  girl  ?  And  is  the  same  kind 
natural  for  all  girls  ?  Is  a  girl  a  mere  specimen  of  her 
sex,  and  has  she  not,  like  a  man,  a  right  to  decide  what- 
ever kind  of  life  may  happen  to  suit  her  ?" 

"My  dear,  we  are  all  specimens  of  our  sex,"  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  observed,  without  a  shadow  of  combativeness. 

"  I  know  that,"  Gertrude  responded,  with  kindling  zeal  ; 
"but  men  are  valuable  and  peculiar  specimens,  each  one 
of  which  is  labelled  and  studied,  and  not  blindly  lumped 
with  all  the  rest." 

"  They  are  not  half  as  valuable  and  peculiar  as  women," 
said  Mr.  Robbins,  with  a  smile  and  a  bow,  in  which  there 
was  a  touch  of  gallantry. 

"  The  very  tone  in  which  you  say  that  shows  that  you 
don't  mean  it,"  she  retorted,  with  increasing  earnestness, 
"  if  the  mental  traits  of  girls  were  thought  to  be  of  any 
consequence,  you  and  other  good  people  would  not  do 
your  best  to  wipe  them  out,  and  to  make  each  as  much  as 
possible  like  all  the  rest.  You  would  try  to  find  out  not 
what  kind  of  life  is  suitable  for  girls,  but  for  this  or  that  girl 
who  came  to  you  for  counsel." 

"  That  is  what  I  try  in  a  humble  way  to  do,"  the  parson 
declared,  with  amiable  neutrality.  Then  he  shifted  his 
position,  putting  his  left  foot  up  on  the  railing  instead  of 
the  right,  and  looked  at  his  enigmatical  parishioner  with 
kindly  compassion. 

"  Ah,  but  you  are  so  distressingly  amiable,  Mr.  Rob- 
bins,"  the  girl  exclaimed,  with  a  hint  of  irritation.  "  You 
don't  even  pay  me  the  compliment  to  get  angry  with  me. 


126  THE  MAMMON 

You  look  at  me  with  mild  disapprobation,  as  you  would 
at  some  inconvenient  canary-bird  that  had  taken  it  into 
his  head  to  chirrup  about  the  problems  of  creation." 

Mr.  Robbins  poked  his  cane  energetically  into  a  crevice 
of  the  top  rail,  and  loosened  a  knot  around  which  the 
wood  had  decayed.  Having  accomplished  this  task,  he 
brought  his  foot  to  the  ground,  and  there  came  a  look  of 
quickened  interest  into  his  eyes.  "  I  won't  quote  the 
Bible  to  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  for  I  don't  think  it 
would  do  you  any  good.  The  fact  is,  you  are  rebelling 
against  the  order  of  the  universe  ;  and  if  I  didn't  have  a 
sneaking  sympathy  with  your  rebellion,  I  suppose  I  should 
find  the  right  words  with  which  to  rebuke  you." 

"  Then  you  think  I  deserve  rebuke,  because  I  am  not 
happy." 

"  No  doubt  you  do  ;  only  I  have  not  the  heart  to  ad- 
minister it." 

"  I  wish  you  would,  if  you  think  it  wouid  benefit  me. 
Perhaps  I  should  then  be  happier." 

"  Happy,  my  child,  happy  !  Happiness  is  an  entirely 
pagan  idea.  I  doubt  if  the  word  is  mentioned  a  single 
time  in  the  Bible,  unless  it  be  in  the  sense  of  heavenly 
blessedness." 

"  Then  Christians,  you  think,  have  no  business  trying  to 
be  happy  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  that  at  all.  I  only  think  that  little 
girls  should  not  trouble  themselves  about  things  which 
they  can't  possibly  comprehend." 

"  You  mean  they  shouldn't  trouble  you  with  things 
which  you  don't  comprehend,"  Gertrude,  in  her  heedless 
zeal,  was  about  to  reply  ;  but  she  checked  her  tongue  and 
finished  :  "  You  mean  it  is  not  good  for  women  to  think." 

"  No,  dear,  I  don't  know  even  that  I  have  the  courage 
to  say  that.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  aware  that  you  think 
some  very  good  things — only,  as  you  say,  they  don't  make 
you  any  happier.  The  fact  is,  Miss  Gertie,  you  are  too 
clever  for  your  own  good." 

"  But  what  would  you  then  have  me  do,  Mr.  Robbins  ?" 
she  ejaculated,  not  in  an  emotional  but  in  a  sort  of  argu- 
mentative despair. 

"  Do  ?  Why,  I  wouldn't  have  you  do  anything,  unless 
I  could  get  you  interested  in  church  work,  in  relieving  the 
wants  of  the  poor,  and  contributing  your  mite  toward 
furtherance  of  the  cause  of  Christ  among  the  heathen. 
That  is  the  proper  work,  I  think,  for  a  girl " 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  I2/ 

"Ah,  there  we  have  it  again.  That,  you  think,  is  the 
proper  work  for  a  girl " 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  interrupted,  quietly,  "  I  was  going  to 
say,  for  a  girl,  situated  as  you  are." 

"To  knit  stockings  for  the  Zulus  and  eat  strawberries 
and  ice-cream  for  the  benefit  of  the  South  Sea  Islanders  ; 
that,  you  think,  ought  to  satisfy  the  ambition  of  a  girl 
situated  as  I  am." 

"You  have  a  paradoxical  way  of  putting  things,  my 
dear ;  but  to  extend  the  kingdom  of  Christ  has  satisfied 
many  a  man  and  woman  as  highly  gifted  and  as  ambitious 
as  you." 

There  was  a  sudden  note  of  authority  in  this  final  ad- 
monition which  startled  the  girl.  By  the  same  process  by 
which,  after  having  drifted  with  the  age,  he  pulled  him- 
self suddenly  back  to  his  orthodox  moorings,  he  now  put 
all  weak  sympathy  to  flight,  and  planted  himself  squarely 
on  biblical  ground.  He  had  had  the  same  experience  a 
hundred  times  before  ;  but  his  kindly  and  tolerant  nature 
could  never  quite  learn  the  lesson  that  any  parley  with 
the  spirit  of  the  age  leads  only  to  inconsistency  and  sur- 
render. And  yet  there  was  in  the  depth  of  his  heart  a 
tormenting  doubt  which  made  him  linger  irresolutely, 
although  he  desired  to  be  gone.  Was  it  his  fault  or  was 
it  hers  that  his  words  struck  no  responsive  chord  in  her 
soul,  brought  her  no  help  in  her  perplexities?  He  hoped 
it  was  hers  ;  but  he  was  by  no  means  sure  of  it.  And  yet, 
he  understood  her  so  well  ;  might  have  entered  so  deeply 
into  her  state  of  mind,  which  was  not  alien  to  him.  But 
if  he  had  done  that,  what  would  have  become  of  his  cleri- 
cal dignity  ?  The  uneasy  sense  of  his  duty  to  assert  him- 
self in  that  and  not  in  his  personal  capacity  was  indeed 
the  cause  of  his  failure  in  this,  as  in  many  other  cases. 
"Were  I  but  a  priest,"  he  sighed  to  himself,  for  the  thou- 
sandth time ;  "  had  I  but  the  spirit,  the  voice,  and  the  au- 
thority of  a  priest  of  God  !" 

He  would  have  liked  to  part  from  Gertrude  writh  a 
strong  and  resonant  word  in  which  there  were  peace  and 
elevation.  But  these  organ  notes  of  consolation,  though 
they  often  haunted  him  and  seemed  close  within  his  reach, 
never  vibrated  through  his  voice  ;  never  stole  as  an  in- 
spiration into  his  words  and  lifted  them  above  kindly  com- 
monplace. And  so,  in  the  present  instance,  he  could  but 
lift  his  shining  hat  with  its  curling  brim  (it  was  the  first 
hat  of  that  fashion  in  the  town)  and  express  the  lame  hope 


128  THE  MAMMON 

to  his  perplexed  parishioner  that  returning  health  would 
restore  her  wonted  cheerfulness.  As  a  grand  finale  that 
was  wofully  weak  ;  and  Mr.  Robbins's  ears  burned  un- 
comfortably, as  he  picked  his  way  among  the  mud-pud- 
dles toward  the  town. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  129 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TRAILING   ARBUTUS. 

A  deep,  gaping  fissure  in  the  earth,  a  record  of  some 
tremendous  prehistoric  convulsion,  its  rough  edges 
somewhat  worn  by  ten  thousand  summers  and  winters 
— that  was  the  Drum  Head  Ravine.  In  their  grand  out- 
lines the  two  sides  corresponded,  a  projection  in  one  being 
a  hollow  in  the  other  ;  but  the  tooth  of  time  (which  is 
a  very  hard  tooth)  had  torn  and  mauled  the  original  face 
of  the  rock  beyond  recognition.  Wind  and  storm  had 
scratched  and  furrowed  it ;  the  cold  had  pierced  to  its 
heart  and  burst  it,  and  gentle  spring,  who  in  his  dealings 
with  the  rock  is  the  hardest  customer  of  all,  had  stripped 
it  bare,  nay,  stripped  it  of  its  very  skin  and  carried  it,  with 
the  rest  of  his  plunder,  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine. 
Summer  in  its  pity  had  clothed  the  rock,  like  Joseph,  in  a 
coat  of  many  colors — dull  green  moss  and  yellow,  brown, 
and  scarlet  lichens.  In  a  fantastic  mood  he  adorned  its 
head  with  huge  plumes  of  fern,  which  grew  in  rank  luxu- 
riance, and  were  splendid  to  behold.  But  like  all  beauti- 
ful things  they  perished,  and  in  their  death  became  the 
foundation  of  new  life.  The  long  procession  of  the  ages, 
with  their  grand  alternations  of  growth  and  decay,  passed 
over  the  face  of  the  rock,  froze  it  and  scorched  it,  stripped 
it  and  clothed  it,  shook,  broke,  rubbed,  and  scratched  it, 
nay,  undertook  a  series  of  cosmic  experiments  with  it 
which  left  it  as  you  see  it  to-day. 

Pine,  hemlock,  oak,  and  maple  now  keep  up  a  silent, 
but  fierce  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  rock.  In 
many  places  you  see  the  pine  and  the  oak  in  deadly  com- 
bat on  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice ;  it  looks  as  if  the 
pine  had  the  worst  of  it,  for  it  hangs  out  over  the  abyss, 
while  the  oak  with  its  gnarled  hands  seems  to  be  holding 
it  by  the  hair  meditating  whether  it  shall  let  it  drop. 
With  a  desperate  clutch  the  pine  holds  on  to  the  rock, 
and  if  it  were  not  for  the  little  brook  which,  from  pure  cu- 


I3O  THE  MAMMON 

riosity,  has  come  rippling  down  among  its  roots — just  to 
see  the  fight — it  might  hold  its  own  yet  for  many  a  year. 

Gertrude  Larkin  gazed  with  unawakened  senses  at  this 
absorbing  page  of  the  earth's  history.  If  she  had  known 
of  the  tremendous  forces  which  were  wrestling,  if  she  had 
but  had  the  faintest  clue  to  the  wonderful  drama  which 
was  in  progress  round  about  her,  she  would  never,  even 
in  ill  temper,  have  called  the  gorge  a  bore.  She  knew 
something  about  Cicero  and  Virgil  (the  advantage  of 
knowing  which  she  never  discovered) ;  she  could  talk 
French  fairly  well,  and  she  had  a  cloudy  remembrance 
of  a  nightmarish  something  called  moral  philosophy. 
And  here  she  went  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  weary  unto 
death,  starved  in  spirit,  because  her  education  had  failed 
to  open  her  senses  and  supply  her  with  a  vital  connecting- 
link  with  reality.  Yet  there  was  such  a  fine  resonance  in 
her  for  any  strong  or  beautiful  thought.  She  would  have 
rejoiced  in  the  story  of  Nature's  great  and  relentless  war 
— the  unending  battle  for  the  poor  privilege  of  life — 
which  was  being  waged  in  the  rock,  the  soil,  the  w-ater, 
and  the  air,  had  she  but  known  the  language  in  which  it 
was  written. 

Gertrude  was  thinking  of  what  the  parson  had  said  to  her, 
and  she  heeded  but,  in  a  mechanical  way,  the  difficulties 
which  the  rugged  path  presented.  She  clutched  now  and 
then  a  low-hanging  bough  or  braced  herself  against  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  when  a  stone  rolled  away  from  under  her 
foot  and  set  a  little  landslide  in  motion,  on  its  way  to  the 
river.  There  was  a  resinous  odor  from  the  perspiring 
pines,  and  the  swelling  buds  of  maple  and  oak  also  con- 
tributed a  faint  balsamic  fragrance.  The  sweetbriers 
spread  their  thorny  nakedness  against  the  sun  and  blushed 
to  the  very  finger-tips.  The  brown  carpet  of  last  year's 
leaves,  which  was  wet  and  mildewed  below  the  topmost 
stratum,  was  here  and  there  lifted  by  some  big,  purple 
bud,  tightly  closed  like  a  fist,  flushed  with  exuberant  life, 
and  sticky  with  rank  and  ill-smelling  juices. 

It  was  a  toilsome  path  which  led  by  all  sorts  of  capri- 
cious turns  and  windings  up  the  rock  and  down  the  rock, 
along  the  water's  edge  and  over  decaying  trunks  which 
bridged  temporary  pools.  Gertrude  stopped  half  a  dozen 
times  to  consider  whether  she  should  turn  about ;  but 
something  in  her  blood  beat  in  vague  sympathy  with  the 
awakening  life  about  her,  and  made  her  aimlessly  press 
on.  The  little  basket  in  her  hand  reminded  her  that  she 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  131 

had  started  out  ostensibly  in  search  of  trailing  arbutus  ; 
and  she  stooped  down  among  the  bowlders  and  began  to 
rummage  among  the  dead  leaves.  Vines  she  found  in 
plenty,  but  flowers  there  were  none.  Only  a  few  white 
and  blue  anemones  peeped  forth  among  the  tree-roots  and 
a  wake-robin  balanced  upon  its  green  stalk  a  single  large 
leaf,  above  which  the  white  flower  was  nodding.  There 
was  evidence  that  somebody  had  been  ahead  of  her  ;  for 
there  were  fresh  tracks  in  the  loose  mould  ;  and  the  up- 
turned leaves  were  yet  dank  and  moist. 

"Those  plaguy  co-eds,"  Gertrude  muttered  ;  "they  scent 
a  flower  as  a  dog  does  a  rabbit." 

She  picked,  half  in  disgust,  the  anemones  and  the  wake- 
robin  and  was  about  to  return  to  the  path,  when  suddenly 
she  discovered  a  stooping  figure  among  the  stones,  some 
fifty  feet  above  her.  It  was  a  man,  and  as  far  as  she  could 
see,  he  was  alone.  That  a  man  should  start  out  alone  in 
search  of  wild  flowers  seemed  a  curious  thing,  and  she 
knew  but  one  man  in  Torryville  who  wrould  be  capable  of 
it.  Did  she  wish  to  meet  Dr.  Hawk  here,  after  what  had 
occurred  between  them  ?  But  who  in  the  world  could  it 
be  for  whom  he  was  picking  flowers  ?  He  surely  was  not 
picking  them  for  himself ;  that  would  be  too  absurd  even 
for  him.  Was  it  for  his  mortgagee — the  girl  who  had 
pre-empted  his  affection  against  all  claimants?  Perhaps 
the  doctor  was  having  two  strings  to  his  bow  ;  perhaps  he 
was  playing  under  cover  with  his  mortgagee,  and  was 
merely  satisfying  his  dramatic  instinct  in  enacting  little 
guarded  love-scenes  with  his  patients.  Gertrude  flushed 
with  wrath  at  this  suspicion,  and  resolved  to  call  her  ad- 
mirer to  account.  But  what  right  had  she  to  do  that  ?  He 
had  never  declared  that  he  loved  her  ;  never  asked  her  to 
marry  him.  Was  it  not  possible  that  her  own  over-wrought 
fancy  had  spun  this  entire  romance  by  subjecting  the  doc- 
tor's actions  to  a  too  ingenious  interpretation.  That  was 
a  possibility  which  was  fraught  with  fresh  humiliation. 

She  was  anxious  to  avoid  the  doctor,  and  yet  in  the  recon- 
dite recesses  of  her  mind  hoped  that  she  might  not  suc- 
ceed. There  was  nothing  to  prevent  her  from  going  home, 
and  she  would  perhaps  have  done  so,  if  she  had  not  dis- 
covered the  figure  of  a  strange  woman  down  on  the  path 
by  the  creek.  A  curious  reluctance  to  meet  this  woman 
took  possession  of  her  ;  she  was  often  subject  to  impulses 
of  this  sort,  and  never  attempted  to  account  for  them.  She 
skipped  quickly  from  stone  to  st»one,  and  reached  the 


132  THE  MAMMON 

winding  wooden  staircase  which  leads  to  the  upper  rocky 
terrace.  Here  the  water-fall  kept  up  a  perpetual  booming 
as  of  heavy  artillery,  and  the  spray  blew  in  white  showers 
through  the  tree-tops.  The  torrent  seethed  and  tossed 
with  despairing  contortions  in  the  smooth  black  cauldron, 
and  plunged  at  last  with  hissing  noises  down  over  the 
brown  bowlders.  Gertrude  became  so  absorbed  in  this 
spectacle  that  she  forgot  all  about  the  woman  from  whom 
she  had  wished  to  escape  ;  and  she  uttered  a  faint  cry, 
when  she  suddenly  discovered  her  standing  at  the  foot  of 
the  staircase.  Yielding  to  an  irrational  impulse  of  fear, 
she  ran  up  twenty  or  thirty  steps,  paused  to  draw  breath, 
and  finally  flung  herself  down  under  a  pine-tree  that  grew 
close  to  the  mill-race.  There  was  a  small  mill  situated 
here,  and  a  dam,  which  was  overflowing  on  all  sides  with 
brown  water.  The  sun  was  quite  warm  and  the  steam  of 
the  earth  was  delicious — full  of  stirring  life  and  creative 
ferment.  Gertrude  sat  idly  gazing  at  the  slow  currents 
that  bore  dead  leaves  and  branches  to  the  edge  of  the  dam, 
and  the  spongy  foam  and  bubbles  that  gathered  about  the 
stones  on  the  shores,  and  got  detached,  sailing  away  on 
some" capricious  eddy.  It  seemed  in  one  moment  so  beau- 
tiful— and  in  the  next  inexpressibly  dreary.  The  trees 
stretched  their  gaunt  hands  against  the  sky,  praying  for 
sun  and  summer,  and  they  prayed  not  in  vain,  for  the 
strong  juices  were  rising  within  them  and  their  buds  were 
swelling. 

She  became  aware,  while  she  sat  thus  absorbed  in  con- 
templation, of  some  alien  presence,  and  turning  swiftly 
about  saw  the  strange  woman  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
staircase,  gazing  at  her  with  solemn  intentness.  There 
was  an  air  of  faded  gentility  about  the  woman,  bordering 
on  shabbiness.  She  wore  a  black  gown  which  made  no 
attempt  to  disguise  its  age  ;  a  smartly  cut  jacket,  much 
stained  and  soiled,  and  a  rather  pretentious  and  youthful- 
looking  hat,  of  a  battered  and  demoralized  appearance. 
There  was  something  indefinably  rumpled  and  untidy 
about  her  whole  attire — as  if  she  had  slept  in  her  clothes. 
On  her  face,  too,  which  must  once  have  been  comely,  there 
was  a  blight  of  some  sort.  Her  features  were  large,  plump, 
and  faultlessly  moulded  ;  but  the  dark  rings  about  her  eyes 
and  the  deep  yellow  pallor  of  her  complexion  spoiled  all 
pretence  they  might  yet  make  to  beauty.  Only  her  blonde 
hair,  which  was  banged  and  curled,  had  a  rich  tawny  sheen, 
as  if  it  had  drained  the  poor  head  upon  which  it  grew  of  its 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  133 

last  vigor.  But  what  impressed  Gertrude  more  than  any- 
thing else  was  the  woman's  eyes,  the  pupils  of  which  were 
inordinately  large,  and  shaded  imperceptibly  into  the  black 
iris.  They  had  a  vague,  burnt-out  look,  by  turns  whimsi- 
cal and  appealing. 

A  dreadful  oppression  came  over  the  girl,  a  kind  of 
spell-bound  calm,  as  if  her  limbs  were  dead  or  too  heavy 
to  move.  She  looked  away  over  the  water,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  a  horrible  fierce  persistense  in  its  un- 
ceasing currents  and  gyrations.  She  saw  the  woman 
approach  her  with  timid,  hesitating  steps,  and  with  a 
strained  and  withered  smile  which  was  terrible. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  perhaps,"  she  heard  her  say  (but 
her  voice  sounded  far  away  and  incorporeal);  "  I  took 
the  liberty  to  follow  you,  because  I  wished  to  speak  with 
you." 

The  thought  darted  through  Gertrude's  head  that  the 
woman  was  a  blackmailer,  who  meant  to  extort  money  by 
a  threat  to  divulge  fictitious  secrets.  It  was  a  consoling 
reflection,  therefore,  to  know  that  she  was  not  alone  in  the 
ravine,  and  that  if  she  could  make  her  voice  heard  above 
the  roar  of  the  water,  she  might,  in  case  of  necessity  call 
Dr.  Hawk  to  her  assistance.  She  glanced  uneasily  down 
the  gorge  in  the  hope  of  seeing  the  doctor  ascend  the 
stairs  at  the  side  of  the  falls.  "You  need  not  be  afraid  of 
me,"  the  strange  creature  continued,  with  the  same  dis- 
tressing smile  ;  "  I  shall  do  you  no  harm.  I  am  a  poor 
woman  who  has  seen  better  days — yes,  my  dear — that  I 
have — so  help  me  God  ! " 

She  heaved  a  sigh  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  do  not  see  what  I  can  do  for  you,"  Gertrude  forced 
herself  to  answer  ;  "  but  if  you  wish  to  talk  with  me,  I  wish 
you  would  call  upon  me  at  home,  I  don't  like  to  have  peo- 
ple follow  me  about  in  this  way." 

"  It  was  for  your  own  sake,  my  dear,  that  I  did  not  call 
upon  you  at  home.  You  think  me  queer,  no  doubt,  well, 
perhaps  I  am  queer.  But  you,  my  dear — won't  you  allow 
me  to  hold  your  hand — just  for  a  moment,  you  know — 

She  had  seated  herself  on  the  moist  carpet  of  pine- 
needles  close  to  Gertrude,  and,  with  a  little  hysterical  laugh, 
tried  to  seize  her  hand.  But  the  girl,  now  thoroughly 
frightened,  jumped  up  with  a  cry,  and  would  have  run 
down  the  ravine,  if  the  steepness  and  the  slipperiness  of  the 
path  had  not  made  precipitous  motions  dangerous.  So 
she  arrested  the  impulse  with  an  effort  of  will ;  but  re- 


134  THE  MAMMON 

mained    standing,  fearful  and   alert,  like  a  bird  about  to 
take  flight. 

"  If  you  do  not  leave  me,"  she  said,  indignantly,  "  I  shall 
call  for  help." 

The  woman  struggled  to  her  feet  with  some  difficulty  , 
and  Gertrude  noticed,  as  she  rose  up  at  her  side,  that  she 
was  exactly  her  own  build  and  height.  They  stood  gazing 
at  each  other  for  a  minute  in  silence  ;  the  woman  because 
she  was  out  of  breath  from  the  effort  of  rising,  Gertrude 
because  she  wished  to  discourage  further  communication. 

"  My  dear,"  the  former  began,  with  a  whimsical  gesture 
which  indicated  extreme  nervousness,  "  I  am  a  mere 
stranger  to  you,  of  course — I  am  a  mere  stranger,  I  should 
say — but  if  you  knew  how  I  have  suffered 

She  shed  a  couple  of  tears,  and  after  having  rummaged 
in  her  pocket,  pulled  out  a  soiled  lace  handkerchief,  which 
she  applied  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  suffered,"  Gertrude  answered, 
a  trifle  mollified,  "and  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you,"  she 
added  rashly 

"Yes,  you  can  do  something  for  me,"  the  other  inter- 
rupted eagerly  ;  "would  you — would  you — I  don't  mean  to 
seem  intrusive — but  I  cannot  help  it —  If  you  only  knew — 
I  have  suffered  so  much — I  have  prayed  for  death  many  a 
time  as  the  greatest  mercy — and  I  have  been  so  cruelly 
treated — by  those  from  whom  I  had  a  right  to  expect 
kindness  and  love — one  to  whom  I  gave  my  young  heart 
— and  he  broke  it  and  crushed  it — and  trampled  upon  it — 
and  I  am  so  miserable.  And  the  only  one  on  earth  I  loved 
he  took  away  from  me — my  only  child — my  only  daugh- 
ter—the only  creature  I  loved — the  only  comfort  that  was 
left  to  me  he  stole  away  from  me — cruelly — in  the  night." 

She  wept  now  profusely,  and  while  the  tears  flowed, 
unhindered,  dived  again  into  her  pocket,  from  which  she 
presently  brought  to  light,  a  much-worn,  and  crumpled 
letter.  She  ceased  her  lamentation  abruptly,  and  with  a 
half-embarrassed  air  glanced  from  Gertrude  to  the  letter, 
which  she  turned  over  two  or  three  times,  and  smoothed 
with  her  palms. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  with  her  nervous,  whimsical  smile, 
"  did  you  ever  know  your  mother  ? " 

Gertrude  felt  a  tightening  of  her  throat,  and  in  her  whole 
body  a  numbness  and  oppression.  She  stared  dumbly  at 
the  strange  woman,  with  a  vague  expectation  of  something 
dreadful  that  she  knew  would  be  coming. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  135 

"  You  never  knew  her  ?  You  have  no  recollection  of 
her  ?  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  You  were  only  four  years 
old  when  you  were  taken  away." 

It  was  as  she  had  feared,  then.  This  woman  had  some 
connection  with  her  past  life  ;  was  perhaps — no,  no,  she 
could  not  bear  the  thought — it  seemed  so  incredible,  so 
horrible.  But  still  the  conviction  settled  more  and  more 
deeply  in  her  mind  that  the  riddle  of  her  origin  was 
about  to  find  its  solution. 

"  My  mother  is  dead,"  she  forced  herself  to  say  ;  "  I 
know  that  she  is  dead." 

"  No,  my  dear,  she  is  not  dead,  though  she  has  wished 
a  thousand  times  that  she  were,"  cried  her  interlocutor 
hysterically  ;  "  look  at  this  letter — look  at  it — do  I  speak 
the  truth,  or  don't  I  ?  What  does  that  say  ?  Read  it,  my 
dear,  read  it.  I  am  not  afraid  you  should  know  the  truth. 
God  is  the  judge  between  me  and  him — I  have  God  as 
my  witness  that  he  stole  you  from  me — like  a  thief  in  the 
night — tore  the  weeping  child  from  the  mother's  bleeding 
heart  ;  that  he  did,  my  dear,  and  God  is  my  witness,  and 
I  am  his  lawful  wife.  I  gave  my  innocent  young  love  to 
him,  and  that  was  the  way  he  returned  it ;  abused  me, 
and  struck  me,  and  stole  my  child  away  from  me " 

She  continued  in  this  strain  for  several  minutes,  ac- 
companying her  narrative  with  excited  gestures  and  sobs, 
appealing  to  heaven,  rolling  her  great,  vague  liquid  eyes, 
and  distorting  her  lax,  withered  features  with  an  effort  to 
express  vivid  emotions.  But  there  was  a  kind  of  ghastly 
unreality  about  it  all — something  premeditated  and  me- 
retricious— which  left  Gertrude  cold.  She  accepted  the 
letter  which  was  thrust  into  her  hands,  and  read  it  half 
mechanically,  wondering  all  the  while  at  her  own  callous- 
ness. The  letter  was  dated  Dayton,  O.,  May  12,  1861, 
and  read  as  follows  : 

"  MY  DEAR  WIFE  :  I  have  got  a  big  contract  for  pon- 
toon bridges,  and  expect  to  make  a  pile  out  of  it.  Den- 
ton  has  a  quarter  interest,  because  he  did  the  work  in 
Washington.  I  shan't  be  home  this  week,  but  expect  to 
get  back  Monday  or  Tuesday.  Keep  your  spirits  up,  and 
don't  get  droopy.  Kiss  little  Gertie  from  her  papa,  and 
tell  her  to  hurry  up  with  her  pesky  teeth,  and  not  keep  her 
poor  mother  awake  nights. 

"  Your  affectionate  husband, 

"OBED  LARKIN." 


136  THE  MAMMON 

There  was  little  doubt  in  Gertrude's  mind  that  this 
note  was  genuine.  It  was  her  father's  epistolary  style, 
and  it  was  very  like  his  handwriting.  The  ink  was  faded, 
and  there  was  a  helpless  crookedness  in  the  letters,  which 
had  not  then  acquired  the  dignity  of  originality.  More- 
over, it  was  not  the  kind  of  letter  which  anyone  would 
have  been  likely  to  forge,  destitute  as  it  was  of  endearing 
phrases  and  protestations  of  affection.  The  only  intelli- 
gence which  it  conveyed  to  her  was  that  Mr.  Larkin  was 
really  her  father,  and  that  his  wife  was  not  her  mother. 
This  she  grasped  clearly  (though  it  failed  for  the  mo- 
ment to  awaken  either  joyful  or  painful  emotions)  ;  but 
all  the  other  bearings  of  the  question  she  put  off  defi- 
nitely, feeling  unequal  to  grapple  with  its  many  perplexi- 
ties. She  handed  the  letter  back  to  the  alleged  Mrs.  Lar- 
kin, and  stared  at  her  again  with  dreary  irresolution.  If 
this  was  indeed  her  mother,  whose  face  she  had  so  often 
prayed  to  behold,  how  was  it  possible  that  she  could  stand 
thus  face  to  face  with  her  without  a  vestige  of  emotion — 
without  a  quickening  of  love,  or  at  least  of  pity  ?  It  may 
be  that  the  revelation  had  stunned  her,  paralyzing  her 
nerves,  and  produced  that  shivering  vacuity  which  was 
creeping  over  her.  She  felt  aching  and  sore,  as  if  she 
had  been  pounded  ;  but  otherwise  nothing  except  a  chilly 
wonder.  She  reflected  in  a  dim  way  that  a  much  acuter 
sorrow  would  have  been  visible  upon  the  woman's  face, 
if  she  were  a  mother,  thus  coldly  rebuffed  by  her  daugh- 
ter, upon  whom  she  had  lavished  her  heart's  best  affection. 
But  it  was  all  so  perplexing  that  it  seemed  utterly  hope- 
less to  attempt  to  unravel  it. 

"  If  you  will  come  and  see  my  father  this  afternoon  at 
three,"  said  Gertrude,  collecting  her  senses  by  a  vigorous 
effort,  "  I  will  persuade  him  to  receive  you." 

"  Your  father — your  father  ! "  the  woman  exclaimed, 
with  a  blank  gaze,  as  if  her  thought  had  slipped  from  her 
grasp  and  she  was  trying  to  recover  it.  "  Oh,  yes,  Obed 
Larkin,  you  mean.  Well,  he  is  a  nice  father,  he  is.  He 
is  a  lovely  father — and  you  too,  you  look  like  him — and 
you  act  like  him — that's  what  you  do — not  one  kind  word 
for  your  own  mother — your  own  flesh  and  blood — I  who 
brought  you  into  the  world — 

She  laughed  again  the  same  wild  hysterical  laugh,  and 
a  threatening  tone  stole  into  her  speech  which  awakened 
Gertrude  from  her  lethargy  and  filled  her  with  alarm. 
She  pulled  herself  suddenly  together,  ran  down  to  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  137 

mill,  crossed  the  foot  bridge,  and  struck  the  path  which 
leads  up  to  the  highway.  Her  fear  grew  upon  her  as  she 
ran,  and  she  dared  not  look  behind  her  to  see  if  she  was 
pursued.  As  she  approached  the  University  and  saw  the 
great  piles  of  masonry  shimmer  through  the  trees,  she 
slackened  her  speed  and  took  time  to  recover  her  breath. 


138  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  SEED  OF  DRAGON'S  TEETH. 

On  the  University  campus  Gertrude  discovered  her 
father's  brown  mare  and  the  well-known  buggy,  splashed 
with  dried  mud.  Mr.  Larkin  became  presently  visible, 
emerging  in  the  company  of  young  tutor  Rodney  from 
the  new  Weather  Signal  Station.  He  had  examined  the 
apparatus,  the  application  of  which  he  had  made  the  young 
man  explain  to  him,  first  because  he  wanted  to  know  it 
himself  ;  and  secondly  because  he  was  anxious  to  find  out 
whether  Mr.  Rodney  was  competent  to  carry  on  the  work  to 
which  he  had  been  assigned.  The  result  of  his  manoeuvre 
was  apparently  satisfactory,  for  he  stopped  every  now  and 
then  on  the  sidewalk  talking  with  animation  and  pounding 
the  gravel  with  his  cane. 

"  You  just  be  sure  you  are  right,  young  man,"  Gertrude 
heard  him  say,  "and  then  go  ahead.  That's  the  principle 
I  have  always  acted  on.  An  American  can't  afford  to 
waste  time  on  what  you  call  the  traditions  of  science.  I 
tell  you,  sir,  if  I  had  troubled  myself  about  the  traditions 
of  bridge-building,  instead  of  going  right  ahead  in  my 
own  way,  I  should  have  been  working  now  for  a  boss  at 
two  dollars  and  a  half  a  day.  No,  sir,  the  American  brain 
has  got  to  do  its  work  in  its  own  way,  or  it  won't  do  no 
f.  work  at  all — that's  to  say  valuable  work,  that's  worth  tak- 
ing account  of.  The  man  who  can  only  do  what  others 
have  done  before  him  may  be  worth  his  victuals.  I  don't 
begrudge  him  that.  But  that  is  all.  He  ain't  worth  any 
more." 

He  cocked  his  head  with  his  shrewd,  self-satisfied  smile, 
and  started  in  on  some  fresh  topic  which  afforded  him 
another  opportunity  to  illustrate  his  Americanism.  He 
saw  Gertrude  approaching,  but  he  paid  no  heed  to  her. 
It  was  not  his  custom  to  expend  politeness  on  members 
of  his  own  family.  It  did  not  even  occur  to  him  that  it 
was  an  unusual  thing  to  see  her  on  the  university  campus 
during  the  hours  of  instruction.  He  did  not  observe  the 


OF  UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  139 

traces  of  excitement  in  her  face,  though  they  were  perfectly 
plain  to  the  young  man  with  whom  he  was  talking.  There 
was,  however,  an  implied  recognition  of  her  presence  in 
the  annoyance  he  exhibited,  as  Mr.  Rodney  saluted  her, 
and  gave  no  longer  his  undivided  attention  to  his  discourse. 
He  had  struck  his  favorite  theme  of  tobacco  and  rum,  con- 
cerning which  lie  felt  sure  his  opinions  were  novel  and 
original.  It  was  therefore  not  an  amiable  face  he  turned 
to  his  daughter,  as,  heedless  of  his  preoccupation,  she 
walked  up  to  him  and  took  his  arm  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
neither  was  it  an  angry  face,  for  the  humor  that  lurked  in 
it  and  the  quaint  Yankee  shrewdness  tended  to  neutralize 
every  emotion  and  keep  it  within  bounds. 

"  Well,  darter,"  he  said,  not  unkindly,  "  are  you  co- 
educating,  or  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

He  had  never  known  her  to  take  his  arm  before  in  that 
manner,  and  it  was  that  which  aroused  his  suspicion  that 
something  was  wrong.  But  to  Gertrude,  the  desire  to  get 
near  him,  to  touch  him,  to  press  herself  close  to  him,  was 
so  imperious  that  she  broke  heedlessly  through  the  relation 
which  habit  had  established  between  them.  She  would 
have  liked  to  fling  herself  upon  his  neck,  to  hug  him  and 
kiss  him  ;  and  a  single  caress  from  him  would  have  filled 
her  with  gratitude.  It  did  not  matter  so  much  now 
whether  he  was  agreeable  or  not ;  the  certainty  that  he 
was  her  father  invested  his  somewhat  uncouth  personality 
with  a  preciousness  and  dignity  which  it  had  never  before 
possessed  in  her  eyes.  She  did  not  trust  herself  to  reply 
to  his  remark,  for  her  teeth  displayed  an  alarming  pro- 
pensity to  chatter,  and  she  felt  the  tears  burning  under 
her  eyelids  and  ready  to  gush  forth. 

"You  look  flustered,"  Mr.  Larkin  went  on,  regarding 
her  with  his  small,  sagacious  eyes;  "you'd  better  ride 
down  with  me  in  the  buggy." 

She  nodded,  and  pulled  him  gently  away  toward  the 
curbstone  where  Libby,  the  venerable  bay  mare,  with  her 
shaggy  head,  was  standing.  This  animal  had  been  about 
twenty  years  in  Mr.  Larkin's  service,  and  she  was  now 
turning  gray,  and  had,  moreover,  the  unpleasant  habit  of 
stumbling.  But  he  had  grown  so  fond  of  her  that  noth- 
ing could  induce  him  to  part  with  her.  She  had  origin- 
ally borne  the  august  name  "Liberty,"  but  this  had  in 
time  been  corrupted  to  Libby  and  Lib.  Some  people 
thought,  when  they  observed  the  care  with  which  Mr. 
Larkin  drove  this  hoary  mare,  and  the  coaxing,  cajoling 


I4O  THE  MAMMON 

way  in  which  he  spoke  to  her,  that  it  was  as  a  companion 
he  valued  her,  rather  than  as  an  aid  to  locomotion.  He 
had  four  other  horses  in  his  stable  ;  two  of  which  were 
farm-horses,  one  a  saddle-horse  named  Walter  Scott,  be- 
longing to  Gertrude,  and  one,  a  rather  ornamental  family 
horse  named  Jim,  who  was  chiefly  devoted  to  Mrs.  Lar- 
kin's  service.  But  the  old  gentleman  himself,  who  was  not 
much  for  the  ornamental,  professed  entire  satisfaction 
with  the  slow  and  uncertain  progress  of  shaggy  old  Lib. 

The  great  university  bell  in  the  Culver  Tower  struck 
three-quarters  to  one  as  Mr.  Larkin  stepped  into  his  high 
buggy,  and  hauled  his  daughter  in  after  him. 

"Well,  darter,"  he  said,  after  having  addressed  a  few 
encouraging  words  to  Libby,  "  I  wish  you'd  brace  up  a 
bit.  What  are  ye  moping  about  anyway  ?  Quarrelled 
with  the  doctor  again,  eh  ?" 

Libby,  who  evidently  objected  to  the  increased  weight 
of  the  buggy,  was  standing,  shaking  her  head  disgustedly, 
and  Mr.  Larkin,  without  awaiting  Gertrude's  answer,  tried 
to  persuade  her  to  overcome  her  objections. 

"  Now,  don't  you  be  cantankerous,  old  girl,"  he  said, 
chuckling  at  the  mare's  perversity;  "you  don't  mind 
Gertie,  do  you  ?  Take  a  pull  now — one,  two,  three  !  Be 
a  good  old  girl,  now — there  goes  !  I  knew  you'd  think 
so  !  Good  old  Libby — that's  a  dear  old  girl." 

Libby,  having  had  time  to  meditate,  expressed  her  dis- 
sent mildly  by  shaking  her  ears  ;  but  concluded,  on  further 
consideration,  to  comply  with  her  master's  request.  She 
walked  along  cautiously  for  a  few  minutes,  and,  after 
having  passed  the  university  chapel,  broke  into  a  jerky 
jog-trot.  Gertrude,  being  unable  to  control  her  inclina- 
tion to  shiver,  seized  her  father's  arm  again,  and  clung 
tightly  to  him.  Mr.  Larkin  now  turned  half  about  and 
looked  at  her. 

"  I  reckon  you've  got  the  chills,  darter,"  he  said  ;  "  it 
ain't  time  yet  to  be  skirmishing  through  the  gorges.  It 
is  too  early  in  the  year.  You're  sick — that's  what  you  are. 
Now  I  shouldn't  care  to  see  you  on  your  back  again  for 
another  six  weeks." 

Gertrude  was  grateful  for  the  grain  of  sympathy  which 
this  speech  implied,  and  felt  that  she  must  say  something, 
lest  she  should  appear  to  repel  his  kindness. 

"  I  am  not  ill,  father,"  she  said,  breathlessly  ;  "  but — but 
— something  dreadful  has  happened  to  me." 

Mr.  Larkin  reined  in  the  horse  suddenly,  and  surprised 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  141 

Libby  by  addressing  her  in  very  uncomplimentary  lan- 
guage. "Now  you  silly  old  thing,"  he  cried,  "can't  ye 
keep  still  when  I  tell  yer ; "  then  turning  to  Gertie  : 
"  Well,  I  thought  something  was  up.  Now  tell  me — what 
is  it  ?" 

She  glanced  up  and  down  the  road  before  speaking  ; 
but  there  was  no  one  in  sight  except  a  small  barefooted 
boy. 

"  Father,"  she  began,  with  chattering  teeth,  "  I  met  a 
dreadful  woman  in  the  Drumhead  Ravine.  She  said — she 
said — she  is  my  mother." 

Mr.  Larkin  did  not  answer  at  once  ;  but  with  the  whip- 
lash tried  to  brush  away  a  horse-fly  which  was  hovering 
about  Libby's  tail.  "  H'm,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  guess  she 
was  lying." 

"  But  she  had  a  letter  from  you,  father,"  Gertie  went  on, 
tremulously,  "  at  least  it  looked  like  your  handwriting.  It 
was  written  many  years  ago,  and  it  was  about  pontoon 
bridges  and  money-making." 

«  Well— what  else  ?  " 

"  It  was  signed — it  was  signed " 

She  could  not  keep  the  tears  back  any  longer,  but 
hugging  his  arm  tightly  pressed  her  face  against  his 
shoulder. 

"  Hush,  darter,  hush,"  he  warned,  in  a  cool,  steady  voice, 
"  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself.  We'll  talk  it  over  when 
we  get  home.  Dry  up  those  tears  now  and  don't  worry, 
or  folks  '11  be  thinking  I've  been  scolding  you." 

Gertrude  obeyed  this  injunction  as  far  as  she  was  able, 
wiped  away  her  tears  and  forced  down  the  sobs  which 
rose  in  her  throat  and  threatened  to  choke  her.  Perceiv- 
ing that  she  did  not  have  her  facial  muscles  under  control, 
he  took  a  roundabout  way  home,  where  they  would  be  likely 
to  meet  few  people,  and  made  no  further  allusion  to  her 
adventure.  He  did  not  stop  before  his  front-door  (it  was 
never  his  custom  to  do  this  when  alone)  but  drove  into 
the  yard  by  the  back  gate.  There  he  calfed  his  "  man," 
who  presently  emerged  from  the  barn,  and  with  some  diffi- 
culty got  out  of  the  high  and  inconvenient  buggy.  The 
groom  did  not  dare  to  assist  him,  knowing  well  that  such 
an  offer  would  have  cost  him  his  place.  But,  quite  con- 
trary to  his  custom,  Mr.  Larkin,  turned  around  and  lifted 
his  daughter  out  of  the  buggy,  which  attention  was  so 
grateful  to  Gertrude  that  she  had  to  exert  herself  to  keep 
from  embracing  him.  After  having  ascertained  that  Mrs* 


142  THE  MAMMON' 

Larkin  was  out  driving,  he  led  the  way  into  the  library, 
and  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  while  Gertrude  sat  down 
in  a  rattan  rocking-chair  opposite.  He  picked  up  a 
bronze  paper-cutter  and  looked  at  it,  as  if  wondering  what 
it  was  meant  for,  and  then  began  gently  to  tap  the  desk 
with  it. 

"Well,"  he  said,  looking  up  suddenly,  "  this  woman  you 
was  talking  about.  She  said  she  was  your  mother  ?  Did 
she  offer  you  any  proof  ? " 

"She  showed  me  a  letter  signed  with  your  name,  in 
which  you  addressed  her  (  My  dear  wife'  !  " 

Gertie  had  now  so  far  accustomed  herself  to  the  situa- 
tion, that,  barring  a  certain  tremulousness,  she  was  able  to 
hold  her  emotions  in  check. 

"  H'm  !   And  you  think  the  letter  was  genuine  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know.     But  it  excited  me  very  much." 

"  Did  she  ask  you  for  money  ? " 

"  No,  she  asked  me  for  nothing  ;  but  she  said  dreadful 
things  about  you.0 

"  H'm,  yes.     How  did  she  look  ? " 

"  She  had  heavy  blonde  hair — bright  straw-colored 
beautiful  hair — and  great  black  eyes,  with  a  curious  blank 
stare  and  black  rings  about  them." 

For  some  reason  this  description  excited  Mr.  Larkin  ;  he 
gave  a  thump  with  the  paper-cutter  on  the  desk  ;  wheeled 
about  in  his  revolving  chair  and  walked  over  to  the  fire- 
place. 

"  She  had  blonde  hair,  did  she,  eh  ? "  he  queried,  with  a 
pinched,  almost  malicious  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  it  was  dyed.    She  had  dark  hair  when  I  knew  her." 

"  Then  you  do  know  her,  father  ?" 

The  question  broke  from  her  like  an  anxious  cry,  and 
her  face  was  full  of  quivering  doubt  and  sorrow. 

"  Do  I  know  her  ?     Well,  I  should  say  I  do." 

He  pulled  a  red  silk  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and 
wiped  away  the  perspiration  that  hung  in  great  beads 
upon  his  brow. 

"And  is  she — my  mother?" 

"Yes,  God  help  you,  child — that  she  is,  though  I  would 
have  given  years  of  my  life  to  have  spared  you  that  knowl- 
edge." 

"Why  so?" 

"She  is  a  bad  woman,  Gertie.  She  was  once  my  wife', 
when  I  was  a  young  and  poor  man — and  she  made  my  life 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  143 

a  hell  for  me.  The  only  thing  that  could  excuse  her 
wickedness — though,  God  knows,  I  don't  see  how  it  can 
excuse  what  she  did — was  this,  that  she  was  rarely  in  her 
right  mind.  She  drugged  herself  early  and  late  with 
opium.  She  had  this  habit  long  before  she  met  me  ;  but 
she  concealed  it  from  me.  She  knew  I  wouldn't  stand  it. 
I  found  it  out  soon  enough,  though  ;  and  it  nearly  drove 
me  wild.  When  you  was  born,  I  was  tied  to  her,  and  I 
reconciled  myself  to  the  thought  of  putting  up  with  her. 
But  it  went  from  bad  to  worse  ;  to  save  your  life  I  had 
to  get  you  away  from  her.  It  is  no  use  going  over  all 
that  damnable  misery  again.  She  neglected  you — she 
didn't  care  any  more  for  you  than  if  you  had  been  a  found- 
ling or  a  puppy." 

"And  did  you  take  me  away  from  her — in  the  night?" 

"In  the  night  ?  Why,  no  ;  I  may  say  I  bought  you  back 
from  her  ;  though  any  court  would  have  decided  that  she 
was  unfit  to  keep  you.  I  paid  her  $10,000  for  renouncing 
her  claim  to  you,  and  she  took  the  money  and  parted  from 
you  without  a  pang.  She  gave  her  solemn  promise  that 
she  would  never  make  herself  known  to  you,  or  try  to  see 
you.  I  got  a  divorce  from  her  in  Ohio  in  1862  ;  she  didn't 
put  in  an  appearance,  because  she  knew  that,  in  the  state 
she  was  in,  it  was  no  good  denying  my  allegations.  I  have 
paid  her  $1,500  a  year  alimony  ever  since,  of  my  own  free 
will,  on  condition  of  her  keeping  away  from  me ;  though 
the  court  did  not  give  her  a  dollar." 

Mr.  Larkin,  having  finished  this  narrative,  seized  the  fire- 
tongs  and  began  to  poke  the  fire  vindictively,  for  there  was 
yet  a  slight  chill  in  the  air,  and  Mrs.  Larkin,  who  was  sensi- 
tive to  cold,  insisted  upon  having  a  fire  in  the  library  up  to 
the  beginning  of  June.  Gertrude  gazed  at  his  white,  stub- 
born head  and  bent  old  back,  and  her  heart  overflowed  with 
yearning  sympathy.  It  struck  her  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  that  there  was  something  pathetic  about  him.  He  was 
quite  an  old  man,  she  reflected  ;  and  he  had  had  much 
trouble.  He  belonged  to  her  as  no  one  else  in  the  world, 
and  she  belonged  to  him. 

When  he  had  vented  his  indignation  upon  the  fire,  Mr. 
Larkin  got  up,  stalked  across  the  floor  and  seated  himself 
heavily  in  his  revolving  chair.  He  never  sauntered  or 
paced  the  floor  in  meditation  ;  but  had  always  a  definite 
goal  for  his  motions.  He  fumbled  about  with  his  right 
hand  for  the  paper-cutter,  without  looking,  and  having 
found  it,  half  turned  to  Gertrude  and  asked 


144  THE  MAMMON 

"Where  is  she  now?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  told  her  to  come  and  see  you  at  four." 

"  That  was  not  well  done  of  you,  darter.  Though  she 
would  have  come  anyway,  so  it  makes  no  difference." 

There  was  a  pause  of  two  or  three  minutes.  Then  Mr. 
Larkin  looked  up  wearily  and  said:  "Is  anything  going 
on  to-day,  affecting  the  heathen  ?" 

He  was  innocent  of  any  humorous  intention  in  this 
query  ;  nor  did  it  strike  Gertrude  as  in  the  least  amusing. 
She  saw  its  bearing  at  once,  and  knew  that  he  was  sum- 
moning her  aid  to  keep  his  wife  away  from  the  house, 
while  the  first  claimant  was  calling.  She  picked  up  the 
Torryinlle  Courier,  glanced  down  one  column  and  up  an- 
other, and  said  finally  : 

"There  is  to  be  a  Union  Missionary  Meeting  at  the  First 
Methodist  Church,  which  will  be  addressed  by  the  Rev. 
Abiel  Striker,  D.D.,  who  has  recently  returned  from  Syria." 

"  The  very  thing.     At  what  hour  is  it  ?" 

"Three  P.M." 

"You  had  better  tell  mother  about  it.  But  probably 
she  knows." 

"Then  mother  does  not  know  of  this — this  woman." 

"  No,  darter  ;  that's  where  I  was  a  fool.  It  would  have 
been  much  better  if  I  had  told  her.  There  was  no  disgrace 
about  it.  But  mother,  being  so  pious  and  all  that — I  jest 
sorter  weakened  and  didn't  say  nothing  to  her." 

There  was  another  pause,  during  which  the  hickory  log 
on  the  hearth  fired  off  small  pistol  shots,  and  projected 
pieces  of  glowing  coal  out  upon  the  rug.  Gertrude  rose 
and  stepped  upon  them ;  and  the  sweet  odor  of  the  wood, 
mixed  with  whiffs  from  the  singed  tiger-rug,  diverted  her 
attention  slightly  from  the  theme  of  discussion. 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do,  father?"  she  asked  at  last, 
rather  listlessly. 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  fixing  a  keen  glance  upon 
her,  spoke  with  a  voice  which  sounded  like  the  rasping  of 
a  saw. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me  this,  Gertie,  that  you  will 
never  try  to  see  this  woman  again,  or  allow  her  to  com- 
municate with  you.  You  must  choose  between  her  and 
me." 

"You  know  I  choose  you,  father." 

"And  you  promise  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I   shall  give  her  more  money,  of  course.     That's  what 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  145 

she  is  after.  I  thought  I  had  bought  all  my  letters  back, 
long  time  ago ;  but  it  appears  she  has  kept  some  back,  to 
be  used  in  an  emergency.  I  don't  want  you  to  talk  to  her 
or  have  anything  to  do  with  her." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  talk  to  her." 

"So  much  the  better." 
10 


146  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

AN    UNPLEASANT   VISITOR. 

Mrs.  Larkin,  being  unable  to  resist  the  allurements  of 
the  heathen,  started  off  to  the  Union  Missionary  meeting, 
full  of  pleasant  anticipations.  She  had  not  the  faintest 
suspicion  of  the  momentous  events  which  were  taking 
place  behind  her  back,  nor  had  she  any  perception  that 
the  air  about  her  was  charged  with  dumb  excitement.  It 
was  no  uncommon  thing  in  the  Larkin  household  to  sit 
through  a  dinner  in  silence  ;  and  no  one,  therefore,  took 
any  note  of  the  solemnity  that  prevailed  at  the  table.  Ad- 
mirable and  estimable  people  as  they  were,  they  were  not 
sufficiently  high  in  the  scale  of  civilization  to  put  them- 
selves out,  habitually,  for  the  sake  of  being  agreeable.  Mr. 
Larkin,  who  was  indeed  ready  enough  to  speak  to  people 
whom  he  expected  to  impress,  had  somehow  less  confi- 
dence in  his  authority  at  home,  knowing  that  his  stories 
and  teachings  had  there  long  since  lost  their  novelty.  He 
did,  to  be  sure,  sometimes  address  to  Horace  observations 
about  business  matters  and  political  affairs,  which  the  lat- 
ter answered  with  monosyllables,  or  with  some  dry  and 
commonplace  comment ;  and  when  he  was  in  particularly 
good  humor,  he  joked  his  wife  on  her  interest  in  the 
heathen,  and  asked  her  whether  the  shirts  she  had  sent  to 
the  Zulu-Kaffirs  were  a  good  fit.  But,  as  a  rule,  he  depre- 
cated conversation  at  meals  as  interfering  with  the  more 
serious  business  of  the  occasion. 

Horace  and  Aleck  returned,  as  was  their  wont,  to  the 
office  on  Main  Street,  as  soon  as  they  had  finished  dinner, 
and,  besides  the  servants,  Mr.  Larkin  and  his  daughter 
were  the  only  persons  in  the  house  when  the  unwelcome 
visitor  arrived.  Gertrude  walked  about  as  in  a  trance, 
not  knowing  whence  she  came  or  whither  she  was  going. 
The  consciousness  of  this  great  tragic  event  in  her  life 
preyed  upon  her.  It  unsettled  her  thought,  raising  up 
new  standards  of  right  and  wrong  ;  making  her  uneasy 


OF  UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  147 

and  agitated.  She  was  sitting  before  the  fire,  staring  into 
a  book,  which  failed  to  convey  the  slightest  idea  to  her 
mind,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Nettie  announced  that 
there  was  a  lady  in  the  hall  who  wished  to  see  Mr.  Larkin. 
There  was  nothing  unusual  in  such  an  announcement, 
for  Mr.  Larkin  had  the  common  experience  of  all  rich 
men,  of  being  persecuted  by  the  unfortunate. 

"  Show  her  in,"  said  Mr.  Larkin. 

He  heard  the  door  open  and  shut  ;  but  kept  his  eyes 
persistently  fixed  on  the  desk.  When,  at  last,  he  raised 
them,  he  saw  a  tall  woman,  with  a  yellow  face,  dressed  in 
shabby  black,  stand  before  him.  The  most  noticeable 
thing  about  her  were  the  great  black  rings  about  her  eyes. 
Mr.  Larkin,  though  not  a  sensitive  man,  almost  shuddered 
as  his  glance  met  hers. 

"  H'm,"  he  said,  with  a  grunt,  "  you  are  there  again, 
are  you  ? " 

A  whimsically  appealing  smile,  which  was  anything  but 
mirthful,  distorted  her  features,  and  her  great,  dark,  cloudy 
eyes,  which  were  passionate  and  unintelligent,  seemed  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  spent  the  last  money  I  sent  you," 
Mr.  Larkin  went  on  ;  "  and  you  have  come  for  more." 

The  woman,  with  a  wild  gesture,  flung  herself  at  his  feet 
and  embraced  his  knees. 

"  Oh,  Obed  ! "  she  cried,  with  a  sudden  flood  of  tears  ; 
"  how  can  you  speak  so  cruelly  to  me — I  who  gave  you  my 
young  heart " 

"  Shut  up,"  he  commanded,  harshly,  "  none  of  your 
capers  now.  You  can't  fool  me.  I  know  them  all  from 
old  times.  Name  your  figure  ;  and  be  quick  about  it " 

"Obed,  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me,"  she  wailed,  raising 
herself  theatrically  on  her  knees,  and  flinging  back  her 
hands. 

"No,  I  won't  listen  to  you,"  he  broke  out  in  a  rasping 
whisper;  "you  and  I  know  each  other  too  well  to  be  up 
to  any  comedy-acting.  It  won't  go  down,  I  tell  you.  So 
behave  yourself  and  let  us  proceed  to  business." 

Gertrude  who  at  that  moment  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
face  was  amazed  at  the  suddenness  with  which  its  expres- 
sion changed.  It  was  as  if,  finding  the  mask  unsuccessful, 
she  deliberately  dropped  it  and  exchanged  it  for  another. 
She  seized  hold  of  the  desk  to  assist  her  in  rising ;  sat 
down  in  a  chair  and  smiled.  Gertrude  could  now  see  the 
reflection  of  her  face  in  the  glass,  and  it  affected  her  most 


148  THE  MA  MM  OH 

unpleasantly.  She  saw  her  pull  the  same  soiled  letter 
from  her  pocket,  unfold  it,  and  smooth  it  out  as  before. 

"  How  much  do  you  suppose  that  is  worth,  Obed  Lar- 
kin?"she  asked,  holding  it  out  at  arm's  length.  There 
was  an  attempt  at  something  resembling  coquetry  in  her 
air  and  gesture — a  faded  pathetic  coquetry  which  was  sad- 
der than  tears.  Gertrude  could  endure  it  no  longer. 
She  arose  and  moved  toward  the  door. 

"You  needn't  go  out  of  consideration  for  me,"  said  Mr. 
Larkin  ;  "  I  have  no  objection  to  your  staying." 

"  I  prefer  to  go,  father,"  she  answered. 

"Ah,  yes,  you  are  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  I  see  that 
plainly  enough,"  the  visitor  exclaimed  with  feverish  vivac- 
ity; "you  think  you  can  afford  to  trample  upon  a  mother's 
heart — just  because  he  does  it — you  think  I  have  always 
looked  as  I  do  now — but  it  was  his  maltreatment  that  made 
rne  what  I  am — my  face  was  quite  as  red  and  white  and 
rosy  as  yours  is — and  my  family  was  as  good  as  any  in 
England — but  he  has  no  more  pity  than  a  stone — only 
look  at  his  mouth,  how  hard  and  cruel  it  is — and  those 
green  cat-eyes — ha,  ha,  ha ! — that  I  ever  could  have  loved 
him — that's  what  I  wonder  at  now." 

Gertrude  heard  these  phrases  hurled  after  her  as  she 
walked  the  length  of  the  floor  toward  the  dining-room 
door.  She  took  this  course  chiefly  because  she  had  a 
dread  of  meeting  any  of  the  servants  who  might  read  her 
agitation  in  her  face.  She  escaped  thence  into  the  empty 
parlor,  and  having  ascertained  that  the  coast  was  clear, 
ran  up-stairs  and  flung  herself  upon  the  lounge  in  her 
bedroom.  As  was  often  the  case,  when  her  nerves  had 
been  subjected  to  a  prolonged  strain,  she  began  to  ques- 
tion the  reality  of  the  cause  of  her  emotions,  and  at  last 
the  emotions  themselves.  A  cool  mist  laid  itself  over 
her  thoughts,  and  lulled  their  intensity.  Her  mind  seemed 
a  chilly  vacuum,  which  was  invaded  every  now  and  then 
by  silly  and  irrelevant  fancies.  Why  did  her  mother 
dye  her  hair,  and  what  kind  of  dye  did  she  use  ?  Probably 
her  hair  was  turning  gray  and  she  had  enough  vanity  left 
to  wish  to  conceal  it.  She  had  once  known  a  girl  who 
washed  her  hair  daily  in  champagne,  to  take  the  color  out 
of  it.  She  had  become  engaged  to  an  engineer  who  fell 
in  love  with  her  hair,  and  would  have  broken  the  engage- 
ment when  he  found  out  that  it  was  dyed,  if  she  had  not 
threatened  him  with  a  breach-of-promise  suit.  Thus  her 
thoughts  rambled  drearily  on,  until  she  brought  them 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  149 

back  forcibly  to  the  all-absorbing  discovery.  But  in  spite 
of  her  effort  to  realize  its  seriousness,  an  intolerable  sleepi- 
ness overcame  her,  and  she  could  not,  however  much  she 
tried,  keep  from  yawning. 

She  had  lain  thus  for  fifteen  or  twenty  moments,  when 
a  sluggish  sense  of  duty  awakened  within  her,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  her  that  she  had  not  acted  rightly  in  leaving 
her  father,  when  he  had  hinted  at  his  desire  to  have  her 
stay.  She  accordingly  rose  to  her  feet,  paused  before  the 
looking-glass  and  bestowed  a  few  decorative  touches  upon 
her  back  hair  which  had  become  somewhat  rumpled. 
Again  she  drifted  into  abstraction,  for  the  question  urged 
itself  upon  her  :  4<  Do  I  look  like  her  ?  Have  I  inherited 
her  viciousness  and  her  hypocrisy  ?" 

She  could  not  avoid  seeing  that  the  shape  of  her  face 
and  its  outline  hinted  at  the  relationship  ;  but  here,  as 
far  as  she  could  judge,  the  resemblance  ceased.  She  took 
comfort  in  the  reflection  that  she  had  her  father's  blue 
eyes,  though  clouded  over  as  it  were,  and  modified,  by 
some  alien  admixture. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  Nettie,  the  red-haired  chamber-maid,  en- 
tered. 

"  Mercy  on  us,  that  was  a  quare  woman  was  a-callin' 
upon  Mr.  Larrkin,  Miss  Gerrtie,"  she  said,  with  her  broad 
Irish  brogue. 

"  Is  she  gone  ?"  asked  Gertrude. 

"  Yes,  that  she  is,  Miss  Gerrtie,  and  thanks  be  to  God," 
Nettie  replied,  seating  herself  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed 
and  brimming  over  with  communicativeness.  After  hav- 
ing vainly  waited  for  encouragement  to  proceed,  she  let 
her  eyes  range  through  the  room  and  observed  vaguely  : 

"  Lor'  knows  what  ye  want  to  do  with  all  thirn  naked 
arrums  and  ligs  on  yer  winder-coortins,  Miss  Gerrtie. 
Thim  things  brings  bad  loock,  sure,  child,  or  me  name 
ain't  Nettie  O'Harrigan." 

"You  don't  understand  that,  Nettie  ;  and  it  would  be 
no  use  for  me  trying  to  explain  it  to  you." 

"  Och,  but  Oi  know  what  Oi  am  a-talkin'  about,  Miss 
Gerrtie,  sure  Oi  do  ;  fur  a  modest  gurrel  loike  you  to  have 
men's  hind  ligs  hung  up  on  yer  walls — and  naked  troonks 
— and  hids,  with  all  the  skin  off,  loike  a  pealed  potatoe — 
that  ain't  as  God  meant  it  to  be,  Miss  Gerrtie  ;  and  it 
don't  bring  ye  no  good  loock  at  all,  at  all." 

"You  needn't  trouble  yourself  about  it,  Nettie,"  Ger- 


I5O  THE  MAMMON1 

tie  observed  rather  loftily,  seating  herself  in  a  rocking- 
chair  and  picking  up  a  sketch-book. 

"But  that  woman,  Miss  Gertie,"  Nettie  burst  out  un^ 
dismayed  by  her  chilly  reception,  "she  was  droorik,  or 
crazy,  and  that's  what  she  was,  Miss  Gerrtie." 

"Well,  Nettie,  what  does  it  matter  ? " 

"  Didn't  ye  hear  her  holler  ?  She  was  after  black-mail- 
in'  Mr.  Larrkin,  that's  what  she  was  afther.  But  he's  an 
old  birrd,  Mr.  Larrkin  is,  and  he  don't  walk  into  them 
koind  of  traps." 

"  Well,  Nettie,  I  suppose  he  is.  But  it  isn't  very  nice 
for  you  to  speak  of  him  in  that  way.  And  now  I  wish  you 
would  leave  me.  I  am  tired  and  I  don't  feel  well." 

"  Humph,  and  it's  prroud  ye  are,  and  ye  hould  yerself  too 
hoigh  and  moighty  t.o  talk  with  a  simple  gurrel ;  but  ye 
h'aint  got  so  much  to  brrag  off,  yer  own  self,  Miss  Gerr- 
tie, though  ye  carry  yer  nose  so  hoigh,  and  bad  loock  tG 
yez,  now." 

With  this  parting  shot  Nettie  flounced  out  of  the  room 
in  high  dudgeon,  and  Gertie  was  quite  relieved  to  find 
that  her  listening  at  the  door  had  availed  her  so  little. 
For  if  she  had  obtained  any  specific  knowledge  of  a  com- 
promising kind  she  would  have  been  sure  to  blurt  it  out 
when  her  ire  was  aroused.  She  had,  like  most  servants  in 
Torryville,  been  spoiled  by  being  treated  as  an  equal,  and 
permitted  to  disburse  her  fund  of  gossip  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  the  ladies  of  the  family.  Mrs.  Larkin  was  not 
above  enjoying  the  piquant  items  of  personal  history 
which  leaked  through  from  kitchen  to  kitchen  ;  and  Net- 
tie was  justly  indignant  at  Gertrude  for  pretending  to  be 
any  better,  in  that  respect,  than  her  mother. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MISS    KATE    VAN    SCHAAK. 

Business  is  a  blessed  relief  to  him  who  has  an  uneasy 
conscience.  Mr.  Larkin,  to  be  sure,  flattered  himself  that 
he  was  on  very  good  terms  with  his  ;  but  for  all  that  he  did 
not  like  to  be  alone  with  it,  and  preferred  almost  any  com- 
panionship to  that  of  his  own  thoughts.  As  it  happened,  he 
had  a  lawsuit  involving  large  sums  of  money,  in  Michigan, 
and  sent  Horace  to  Detroit  to  represent  him  as  counsel. 
There  was  a  chance  of  compromising  on  favorable  terms  ; 
but  Mr.  Larkin  would  listen  to  no  conciliatory  proposals. 
He  threw  himself  into  the  contest  with  a  stubbornness  and 
pugnacious  zeal  which  surprised  even  his  prudent  attor- 
ney. He  joyfully  wasted  his  substance  in  telegraphing 
letters  of  one  and  two  hundred  words,  and  received  de- 
spatches of  similar  length  in  return.  And  the  result  was 
that  Horace  returned,  at  the  end  of  ten  days,  with  a  deci- 
sion in  his  favor,  worth  some  $250,000,  and  a  fee  for  his 
own  services  which  made  him  expand  with  an  agreeable 
sense  of  prosperity.  He  had  intended  to  charge  his  uncle 
$1,000  ;  but  when  he  named  this  sum  to  the  old  gentle- 
man he  pretended  to  grow  very  wroth. 

"  Stuff,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
I  couldn't  have  gotten  another  lawyer,  who  was  worth  his 
grub,  to  do  that  work  for  me  for  less  than  $3,000." 

"  Perhaps,"  his  nephew  assented,  thoughtfully  ;  "but  in 
his  own  family,  you  know,  it  is  a  ticklish  matter  for  a  man 
to  rate  himself  at  his  full  marketable  figure.  You  took  me 
when  I  was  much  below  par,  and  you  are  entitled  to  your 
discount." 

"  Don't  talk  slushy  sentiment  to  me,  boy,"  cried  Mr. 
Larkin,  with  assumed  gruffness  ;  4<  if  you  are  worth  $3,000 
you  shall  have  $3,000,  and  not  a  cent  less." 

And  so  the  end  of  it  was  that  Horace  deposited  $3,000 
to  his  credit  in  the  Torryville  National  Bank,  which  sum  he 
converted,  a  week  later,  into  a  farm  mortgage,  bearing  six 
percent,  interest.  He  had  in  him  the  stuff  that  millionaires 


152  THE  MAMMON 

are  made  of ;  nothing  gave  him  so  much  pleasure  as  a 
successful  financial  operation,  except  perhaps  a  crisp  and 
clean-cut  argument  before  the  bar,  that  riddled  his  oppo- 
nent through  and  through,  with  logical  thrusts  and  cita- 
tions of  impregnable  authorities.  His  cool  sagacity,  cou- 
pled with  a  wholly  unsentimental  view  of  human  relations, 
enabled  him  to  see  and  seize  his  opportunity  before  any- 
body else  had  discovered  that  the  opportunity  was  there. 
1  It  was  often  his  custom  when  he  was  alone  in  the  office  to 
take  out  his  mortgages  and  securities  from  the  safe  and 
look  them  over  just  for  the  pleasure  of  the  thing.  He 
liked  to  handle  them,  for  they  conjured  up  pleasant  vis- 
ions of  power,  influence,  and  recognized  success.  They 
footed  up  about  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  which 
was  a  modest  sum,  to  be  sure  ;  but  it  represented  actual 
earnings,  self-denial,  and  shrewd  calculation. 

There  was  another  reflection,  too,  which  had  a  close 
.  connection  with  these  financial  meditations.  He  had  con- 
]  eluded,  some  time  ago,  that  it  would  be  for  his  advantage 
!  to  marry;  and  he  had  more  than  once  made  up  his  mind, 
that,  all  things  considered,  he  would  never  be  likely  to 
meet  a  girl  who  would  suit  him  any  better  than  Arabella 
Robbins.  He  was  fond  of  her,  in  his  way;  and  he  rated  it 
a  high  merit  in  her  that  she  was  still  fonder  of  him.  He 
tested  his  feelings  for  her  in  various  ways,  and  surprised 
himself  at  finding  how  much  deeper  they  were  than  he  had 
been  willing  to  acknowledge.  Thus  he  had  to  admit  that  it 
would  give  him  pain  in  case  she  were  to  marry  any  one 
else.  It  would  be  something  more  than  wounded  vanity. 
He  was  not  wildly  and  desperately  in  love  with  her,  but  it 
would  be  absurd,  on  his  part,  to  expect  any  such  feeling 
to  invade  his  sober  and  well-regulated  life.  You  could  not 
imagine  a  Coriolanus  or  a  Julius  Caesar,  even  when  in 
love,  pining  and  breathing  amorous  sighs  to  the  moon  like 
a  Romeo.  They  would  love  warmly,  no  doubt,  but  yet 
temperately  and  with  dignity.  Horace  liked  to  fancy  that 
he  was  temperamentally  akin  to  the  former  gentlemen 
rather  than  to  the  latter. 

His  relation  to  Bella  had  been  drifting  gradually  into 
something  closely  resembling  an  engagement.  People  had 
accepted  it  as  a  settled  matter  that  they  would  some  day 
marry.  They  were  "  as  good  as  engaged,"  the  gossips  as- 
serted ;  and  I  do  not  mean  to  be  invidious  when  I  say  that 
the  young  lady,  who  had  indeed  never  resented  allusions 
to  such  a  denouement,  had,  at  last,  by  the  transparent 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  153 

hypocrisy  and  flattered  gratification  with  which  she  denied 
the  engagement,  come  to  confirm  the  general  impression. 
Mr.  Robbins,  who  more  than  half-suspected  that  the  young 
people  kept  their  secret  from  him  merely  because  he  was 
supposed  to  disapprove,  held  himself  in  readiness  (after  the 
proper  amount  of  coaxing  and  tearful  entreaties,  to  bestow 
his  parental  blessing,  and  was  prepared  to  make  the  best 
of  a  son-in-law  who,  whatever  his  merits,  could  never 
acquire  the  crowning  one  of  being  agreeable.  It  was  and 
remained  a  mystery  to  him  that  his  daughter  could  find 
him  so  fascinating  ;  but  this  was  of  slight  consequence, 
of  course,  as  long  as  he  was  in  every  way  estimable  and 
had  a  fair  chance  of  becoming  a  leading  citizen  of  the 
State.  But  for  all  that,  it  was  a  thousand  pities  that  Aleck, 
who  was  so  infinitely  more  agreeable,  had  not  (in  spite  of 
a  few  gentle  hints)  taken  it  into  his  head  to  fall  in  love 
with  Bella.  Mr.  Robbins  murmured  feebly  and  impotently 
against  the  Lord,  through  the  blue  cigar  smoke,  when  he 
meditated  upon  these  things  ;  but  concluded  sagely,  when 
his  wrath  was  spent,  that  he  should  only  muddle  matters 
still  worse  if  he  attempted  to  interfere. 

This  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Horace,  one  evening 
in  the  latter  part  of  May,  found  himself  seated  on  the  sofa 
in  the  parlor  of  the  parsonage.  The  Rodents  had  taken 
flight  the  moment  they  saw  him,  and  even  the  parson  had 
discreetly  retired  to  his  study.  He  sat  and  talked  about  his 
plans,  and  Bella  listened  with  an  enthusiasm  which  seemed 
all  out  of  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  subject.  But 
then  she  had  a  way  of  thinking  that  every  tiling  Horace  said 
was  brilliant,  and  if  he  observed  that  the  weather  was 
unpleasant  she  assented  to  it  with  such  evident  delight 
that  he  could  not  help  suspecting  that  he  had  said  some- 
thing remarkable.  She  raised  him  constantly  in  his  own 
estimation,  made  him  feel  clever,  masculinely  superior,  and 
amiably  patronizing.  And  so  it  happened,  as  they  sat 
there  in  the  twilight,  that  he  felt  impelled  to  ask  the  fate- 
ful question,  for  which  she  had  been  waiting  for  five 
years.  She  was  almost  hysterical  with  joy,  and  she  em- 
braced and  kissed  him  with  a  vehemence  which  made  him 
uncomfortable — a  little  bit  bashful,  as  it  were,  on  her  ac- 
count. They  went  together  into  her  father's  study  and  an- 
nounced the  engagement.  But  Horace  had  a  sense  of 
awkwardness  and  irritation  during  that  trying  interview 
which  was  only  carried  off  by  Bella's  touching  delight. 
He  thought  he  had  never  seen  Mr.  Robbins  appear  to  less 


154  THE  MAMMOtf 

advantage,  and  Mr.  Robbins,  with  an  internal  writhing  and 
squirming,  went  through  the  ordeal,  but  reflected  all  the 
while  that  his  son-in-law  was  one  of  the  most  unpleasant 
men  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact. 

It  was  in  the  early  part  of  June,  when  this  affair  had  not 
yet  lost  its  novelty,  that  Miss  Kate  Van  Schaak,  of  New 
York,  a  niece  of  Mr.  Robbins,  arrived  at  the  parsonage.  Miss 
Van  Schaak  was  a  tall  and  slender  brunette,  with  handsome, 
regular  features.  The  only  thing  which  detracted  some- 
what from  her  beauty  was  a  certain  lofty  and  disdainful 
air,  and  an  expression  about  her  nose  and  mouth  as  if  she 
sniffed  an  unpleasant  odor.  It  was  only  when  her  face 
was  in  repose  that  this  expression  was  apparent ;  anima- 
tion had  the  effect  of  softening  the  rigidity  of  her  features, 
and  transforming  her,  as  it  were,  into  an  entirely  different 
woman. 

Everything  about  her  was  clear,  distinct,  and  definite. 
Her  lips  had  firm,  clean  curves,  which  were  drawn  with 
exquisite  precision,  every  line,  every  feature  was  refined, 
and  hinted  at  centuries  of  civilization.  She  was,  moreover, 
so  obtrusively  clean  as  to  make  the  cleanliness  of  others 
seem  to  be  of  an  inferior  quality.  She  seemed  clean 
straight  through.  This  remarkable  young  woman  could 
be  apparently  anything  she  liked  to  be  ;  could  charm  or 
repel  with  the  same  deliberation,  and  chose  to  do  the 
latter  quite  as  frequently  as  the  former.  She  had  friends 
who  adored  her  and  enemies  who  detested  her ;  but 
neither  the  praises  of  the  former  nor  the  vituperations 
of  the  latter  caused  her  for  an  instant  to  lose  her  superb 
equanimity.  She  had  birth,  she  had  wealth,  she  had  social 
position  ;  in  fact  all  that  heart  could  desire  and  fortune 
bestow  upon  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Why  need  she, 
under  such  circumstances,  be  weakly  and  democratically 
amiable  ?  She  felt  herself  in  the  position  of  a  sovereign 
for  whose  favor  thousands  sue  in  vain  ;  and  she  did  not 
mean  to  cheapen  its  worth  by  a  too  lavish  bestowal.  She 
was  conscious  at  times  of  a  certain  fierce  sense  of  exclu- 
siveness.  She  experienced  a  pleasure  in  keeping  her  doors 
closed  against  all  the  vulgar  throng  without,  which,  she 
fancied,  were  dying  to  be  admitted.  And  there  was  no  de- 
nying that  society  encouraged  her  in  this  belief.  She  held 
herself  in  such  high  esteem  that  others  had  no  choice,  if 
they  desired  her  acquaintance,  but  to  accept  her  own  val- 
uation. It  was  those  who  most  successfully  expressed  this 
fact  in  speech  and  action  who  rejoiced  in  her  good  graces. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  155 

But  even  here,  a  certain  reservation  had  to  be  observed, 
for  Miss  Van  Schaak  had  esprit  and  demanded  a  flavor  of 
wit  or  fineness  of  appreciation  in  the  homage  which  she 
received.  A  blunt  knock-down  compliment  she  resented  ; 
but  an  implied  compliment,  deftly  turned,  filled  her  with 
pleasure.  She  had  the  kind  of  nose  which  in  middle  life 
becomes  a  vexation  of  spirit.  Now  it  was  only  aquiline 
and  rather  handsome.  It  looked  high-bred  and  a  trifle 
haughty.  But  Miss  Kate  was  very  sensitive  on  the  subject 
of  noses,  and  liked  no  allusion  to  that  organ  in  general. 
She  had  a  suspicion  (though  an  ungrounded  one)  that  her 
beauty  was  somewhat  marred  by  its  prominence,  and  often 
stood  with  a  hand-glass  contemplating  her  profile,  trying 
to  settle  this  vital  question. 

I  believe  this  was  the  only  doubt  which  ever  troubled 
her  and  it  was  not  serious  enough  to  interfere  with  the 
superb  ease  and  security  of  her  bearing.  She  had  seen  a 
good  deal  of  the  world,  spent  two  years  in  a  French  con- 
vent, and  had  visited  all  the  capitals  of  Europe.  One 
German  baron  and  two  Italian  counts  had  placed  their 
names  and  titles  at  her  disposal  ;  but  she  had  politely, 
but  firmly,  declined  to  avail  herself  of  their  kind  proposi- 
tions. If  she  ever  married,  she  was  wont  to  affirm,  it  would 
have  to  be  a  man  whom  she  was  afraid  of.  As  she  had 
never  during  the  twenty-two  years  of  her  existence  en- 
countered such  a  man,  she  was  reconciled  to  the  thought 
of  single  beatitude.  She  had  no  objection  to  matrimony 
per  se  ;  she  only  objected  to  the  men  who  had  so  far  honored 
her  with  proposals.  Of  course  she  was  fully  aware  of  the 
attractive  force  of  the  four  or  five  million  dollars  which 
rumor  placed  to  her  father's  credit;  but  she  was  altogeth- 
er too  polite  to  refer  to  motives  of  that  sort.  In  fact,  she 
never  spoke  of  her  money  ;  and  she  disdained  vulgar  show 
of  diamonds  and  gorgeous  attire  as  incompatible  with  her 
Knickerbocker  dignity.  She  dressed,  indeed,  magnifi- 
cently ;  but  the  splendor  of  her  attire  revealed  itself  fully 
only  to  the  connoisseur.  A  certain  quiet  richness,  faultless 
fit,  and  chaste  elegance  always  distinguished  her  costumes. 
They  were  the  wonder  and  the  despair  of  those  less  favor- 
ably situated  ;  they  aroused  evil  passions  in  tender  bo- 
soms, wherever  they  appeared.  They  extinguished  all  with 
which  they  came  in  contact  as  effectually  as  a  snuffer  ex- 
tinguishes a  candle. 

The  Van  Schaak  family  had  grown  rich  in  a  comfortable  , 
and  leisurely  way,  without  any  great  exertions  on  their 


156  THE  MAMMON 

part.  They  had  happened  to  own  some  pieces  of  land  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Twenty-Third 
Street ;  and  while  deploring  the  influx  of  foreigners  and 
the  disappearance  of  the  ancient  New  York,  sat  still  and 
scooped  in  their  millions.  They  held  on  to  their  fine  old 
homestead  on  Twenty-third  Street  with  true  Dutch  tenac- 
ity ;  and  raised  hens,  and  cultivated  cabbages  and  hya- 
cinths, on  land  worth  several  thousand  dollars  a  foot.  I 
believe  they  took  more  pride  in  this  piece  of  bravado  than 
in  any  other  circumstance  in  their  family  history.  Mr. 
Adrian  Van  Schaak,  Kate's  father,  used  to  send  baskets  of 
green  peas  and  grapes  around  to  his  friends,  and  inform 
them,  afterwards,  as  a  good  joke,  that  the  peas  cost  him 
about  ten  dollars,  and  the  grapes,  fifty  dollars  a  piece. 
And  like  a  Cato  besieged  by  the  Carthaginians,  he  held 
his  ground  with  splendid  obstinacy ;  and  felt  with  quiet 
satisfaction  how  his  grapes  and  cabbages  were  growing 
more  preposterously  valuable  with  every  day  that  passed. 
He  was  contemplating,  as  a  further  challenge  to  the  enemy, 
the  digging  of  a  duck-pond  or  artificial  basin,  and  the 
raising  of  fancy  poultry,  which  would  still  further  empha- 
size the  rural  character  of  the  oasis  he  was  cultivating  for 
his  own  private  delectation  in  the  midst  of  the  noisy  marts 
of  trade.  In  the  meanwhile  the  Carthaginians  were  impo- 
tently  roaring  without  his  gates  by  night  and  by  day,  little 
suspecting  that  that  roar  was  their  most  formidable  weap- 
on. For  Adrian  Van  Schaak  was  a  poor  sleeper.  He  ap- 
pealed vainly  to  the  mayor  and  the  police  commissioners  to 
have  the  nocturnal  noises,  which  disturbed  his  slumbers, 
stopped.  But  the  mayor  laughed  in  his  sleeve,  and  the 
police  commissioners  laughed  without  the  least  pretence  of 
concealment,  and  told  Mr.  Van  Schaak  that  they  could  not 
interfere  with  the  laws  of  trade,  and  that  it  was  time  he 
moved  his  lares  and  penates  into  a  quieter  neighborhood. 
And  through  the  long  night,  with  short  intervals,  a  pro- 
cession of  milk-carts,  street-cars,  drays,  and  ambulances, 
rattled  with  the  most  diabolical  racket  under  Mr.  Schaak's 
windows  ;  keeping  still  just  long  enough  to  enable  him  to 
doze  off,  then  with  an  infernal  delight  plunging  forward 
and  giving  him  a  start,  which  rippled  down  his  spine  and 
set  all  his  nerves  quivering.  Mr.  Van  Schaak  kept  up 
his  noble  fight  as  long  as  he  saw  any  chance  of  success, 
but  one  day,  when  his  son  Adrian,  Jr.,  with  a  pointed  inten- 
tion, read  him  Sidney  Smith's  speech  about  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  the  old  gentleman  perceived 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  157 

that  his  allies  were  deserting  him,  and  worn  out  as  he  was 
with  sleeplessness  and  impotent  irritation,  he  -struck  his 
flag  and  surrendered.  A  month  later  he  bought  a  fine 
double  mansion  on  Gramercy  Park  ;  and  his  house,  duck- 
pond,  and  stables,  and  cabbage  garden,  vanished  in  a  jiffy, 
giving  place  to  deep  excavations,  steam  derricks,  heaps  of 
bricks,  and  blocks  of  granite.  No  one  knew  exactly  how 
much  the  old  Knickerbocker  cleared  by  that  operation, 
for  he  was  extremely  discreet  about  his  money  affairs,  and 
liked  the  mystery  of  large  and  vague  figures  which  piqued 
and  baffled  vulgar  curiosity. 

Mr.  Van  Schaak  had  but  two  children,  Adrian,  Jr.,  who  at 
the  time  of  this  narrative  was  about  twenty-six  years  old, 
and  Kate,  who  was  four  years  younger.  Mrs.  Van  Schaak 
was  a  cousin  of  the  late  Mrs.  Robbins,  whose  personal  un- 
attractiveness  had  been  somewhat  mitigated  by  her  blue 
blood.  Bella  Robbins,  who  was  accordingly  a  second 
cousin  of  Kate  Van  Schaak,had  repeatedly  visited  the  family 
in  New  York,  and  always  returned  tremendously  impressed 
with  their  grandeur.  It  was  a  source  of  much  satisfaction 
to  her  to  have  such  fine  relatives  ;  and  she  was  aware,  too, 
that  it  added  to  her  prestige  in  the  town.  But,  those 
Torryville  people  were  a  queer  lot,  and  she  was  careful  not 
to  brag  (except  in  the  most  cautious  and  inferential  way) 
for  fear  of  arousing  their  animosity.  And,  moreover,  now 
that  Kate  was  in  Torryville,  actually  visiting  at  her  father's 
house,  people  could  of  course  see  what  she  was,  and  form 
their  conclusions  as  to  the  entourage  which  must  have  been 
required  to  rear  so  rare  and  splendid  a  flower. 


158  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A  CONTROVERSIAL    DINNER-PARTY. 

The  question  which  agitated  the  parsonage  after  Miss 
Van  Schaak's  arrival,  was  whether  they  ought  to  give  a  re- 
ception or  a  dinner  in  her  honor.  The  former  would  of 
course  be  the  easier  ;  but  then  they  would  have  to  invite 
the  whole  congregation,  and  when  Bella  reflected  what 
that  would  mean,  her  heart  failed  her.  She  knew  perfect- 
ly what  such  a  reception  would  be  ;  she  could  fancy  all 
the  queer  and  awkward  specimens  of  grocers,  dry  goods 
men,  druggists,  and  country  lawyers  with  their  wives  pass- 
ing in  review  before  her  cousin,  and  she  could  imagine  all 
the  dreadful  speeches  they  would  make,  and  Kate's  rigid 
condescension,  when  she  grew  tired  of  being  amiable  ;  and 
her  high-nosed  scorn  when  she  grew  tired  of  condescend- 
ing. All  that  would  cause  talk,  of  course,  and  arouse  ill- 
will,  from  which,  in  the  end,  she  and  her  father  would 
suffer.  That  was,  after  all,  the  most  disagreeable  side  of 
her  position  as  a  parson's  daughter,  that  she  had  always 
to  keep  her  finger  so  anxiously  on  the  public  pulse.  On 
every  conceivable  topic  which  divided  the  congregation 
she  had  to  balance  herself  on  the  fence  as  ingeniously  as 
if  she  had  been  a  presidential  candidate.  Because  her 
father  was  undiplomatic  and  easy-going,  she  had  to  be 
doubly  wily  and  circumspect ;  and  she  often  had  hard  work 
in  explaining  away  some  of  his  hasty  speeches. 

Mr.  Robbins  had  given  his  verdict  in  favor  of  the  dinner 
and  against  the  reception,  chiefly  because  he  liked  to  eat 
good  dinners  and  hated  receptions.  To  him  the  question 
of  how  to  dispose  of  the  four  Rodents  was  a  very  simple 
one  ;  while  to  Bella  it  was  one  of  hopeless  intricacy.  It 
was  impossible  to  give  one  gentleman  to  each  Rodent,  and 
moreover  reserve  one  for  herself  ;  first  because  it  would 
look  too  utterly  absurd,  and  secondly  because  there  were 
not  dishes  and  forks  and  glasses  enough  to  go  around. 
She  had  cold  shivers  when  she  thought  of  presiding  at  a 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  1 59 

dinner  in  the  presence  of  her  critical  cousin  ;  and  when 
the  vision  of  the  exquisite  and  unsurpassable  feast  that 
had  been  given  for  her  in  Gramercy  Park  flitted  before 
her  fancy,  she  sank  into  the  depths  of  misery.  She  even 
wished  that  Kate  had  remained  a  New  York  sun-myth  and 
never  descended  into  the  Torryville  world  of  fact.  But 
that  was  rank  treason,  of  course  ;  and  Bella  was  ashamed 
of  her  sentiments.  The  dinner  had  to  be  given  ;  there  was 
no  help  for  it.  After  a  deal  of  wretched  scheming  it  was 
settled  that  two  of  the  Rodents  were  to  be  taken  ill — for  a 
suitable  reward,  and  the  two  others  were  to  go  visiting  in 
the  country.  As  the  dinner  set  (after  the  breakage  of 
twenty  years)  just  sufficed  for  eight,  it  was  fortunate  that 
tiie  number  of  strictly  eligible  young  people  which  the 
town  contained  fell  below  that  number.  There  were  first 
Horace  and  Aleck  Larkin,  and  Miss  Gertrude  ;  then  Dr. 
Hawk,  who  was  supposed  to  have  seen  something  of  soci- 
ety abroad,  might  pass  muster  at  a  pinch,  and  Pussy  Dal- 
las, who  had  been  to  school  in  New  York,  presented  a  fairly 
creditable  appearance.  Invitations  accordingly  were  sent 
to  these  favored  few,  and  were  promptly  accepted.  Coun- 
cils of  war  were  held  nightly  in  Mr.  Robbins's  study,  and 
excitement  reigned  in  the  house.  Wines,  terrapin,  and 
game  were  telegraphed  for  to  New  York  ;  two  oyster 
forks  were  in  the  last  moment  found  to  be  missing  ;  and  a 
finger  bowl  and  a  champagne  glass  were  found  to  be 
broken,  but  had  been  insidiously  glued  together  by  the 
delinquent  chambermaid.  Then  more  misery  and  more 
telegraphing.  And  to  cap  the  climax  of  vexation,  it  oc- 
curred to  Be<la  that  she  had  in  her  excitement  forgotten 
the  enmity  between  Aleck  and  Dr.  Hawk,  and  that  very 
likely  their  strained  relations  might  occasion  some  un- 
pleasant incident  or  tend  to  throw  a  damper  upon  the 
spirits  of  the  rest.  However,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  about  it  now.  She  felt  when  the  fatal  evening  ar- 
rived, like  a  foolhardy  skipper  who  puts  to  sea  with  a  car- 
go of  explosives,  and  thinks  the  chances  even  as  to  whether 
he  will  reach  port  or  not.  Nervous  and  high  strung 
as  she  was,  she  had  fretted  herself  to  death  with  all  the 
minutest  details  of  the  arrangement ;  while  her  father 
laughed  good  naturedly  and  told  her  to  take  things 
easy.  It  was  not  until  she  retired  to  her  room  to  dress 
that  she  discovered  how  haggard  she  was  ;  her  hands 
trembled  when  she  took  down  her  hair,  and  she  had  to 
send  one  of  the  sick  Rodents  down,  to  ask  for  a  thimble- 


l6O  THE  MAMMON 

full  of  cognac  ;  otherwise  she  feared  she  would  have  to 
absent  herself  from  the  dinner.  Mr.  Robbins  on  receiving 
this  message  came  running  up-stairs  in  his  shirt  sleeves 
with  a  brandy  flask  in  his  hand  and  his  suspenders  dang- 
ling at  his  heels  ;  but  he  could  not  be  admitted  to  the 
virgin  bower,  and  had  to  vent  his  solicitude  in  anxious 
queries  through  the  door,  which  was  at  last  cautiously 
opened  and  the  flask  passed  in  through  the  crack. 

To  dress  for  dinner  without  a  maid  is  an  achievement 
to  which  few  women  in  this  age  are  equal.  But  necessity 
is  the  mother  of  invention  ;  and  it  is  astonishing  what  feats 
a  woman  can  accomplish  when  she  knows  that  there  is  no 
extraneous  help  to  fall  back  upon.  The  one  servant  of 
the  house  who,  in  cases  of  emergency,  acted  as  lady's  maid, 
had  been  summoned,  early  in  the  afternoon,  to  Miss  Van 
Schaak's  room,  and  remained  there  until  that  imperious 
damsel,  radiant  to  behold,  descended  into  the  parlor. 
Bella,  who  had  to  put  up  with  her  clumsy  and  rather  ill- 
disposed  Rodent,  collapsed  two  or  three  times  on  her 
bed,  and  would  have  wept,  if  she  had  not  known  that  tears 
leave  traces  behind  them.  When,  at  last,  her  toilet  was 
finished,  she  swore  a  solemn  but  inaudible  oath  that  be- 
fore she  gave  another  dinner  party  she  would  have  to  take 
leave  of  her  senses.  She  found  her  father  standing  outside 
of  her  door,  handsome,  glossy,  and  distingue,  but  with  a 
face  full  of  anxious  interrogation  marks. 

"Oh,  don't  you  worry,  papa,  I  am  all  right,"  she  said, 
reassuringly  ;  and  then,  when,  with  gratified  relief,  he 
kissed  her,  she  cried,  with  hysterical  laughter  : 

"  Oh,  papa,  you  dreadful  man,  you  are  covered  all  over 
with  rice-powder  ! " 

To  remove  the  traces  of  this  unpremeditated  embrace, 
both  had  to  retire  for  a  few  minutes  to  their  dressing- 
rooms,  and  when  they  reappeared  they  had  to  restrain 
their  affectionate  impulses. 

"  Why,  how  lovely  we  look  ! "  cried  the  parson,  knowing 
well  what  was  expected  of  him  ;  "  how  perfectly  charm- 
ing!" 

"  Now,  papa !  "  ejaculated  his  daughter,  with  feigned 
displeasure,  "  don't  be  horrid.  You  know  I  look  perfectly 
hideous." 

"Well,  if  you  look  hideous,  my  dear,  I  am  no  judge  of 
beauty." 

"  Now,  honor  bright,  papa !  Don't  I  look  dragged,  and 
worn-out  ? " 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  l6l 

"  Why,  my  sweet  child,  you  look  as  fresh  as  a  rose,"  he 
exclaimed,  unblushingly. 

"As  a  wilted  rose,  you  mean  ?" 

"  No,  a  Marechal  Niel  rose,  fresh  plucked,  at  a  dollar 
and  a  half  a  piece." 

He  had  not  lived  so  long  with  women  without  learning  to 
compromise  with  his  conscience,  and  distinguish  between 
benevolent  and  malevolent  mendacity.  It  was  important 
that  his  daughter  should  think  she  looked  well  to-night, 
and  the  torments  of  the  Inquisition  could  not  have  wrung 
from  him  the  admission  that  anxiety  had  left  its  traces  in 
her  delicate  face.  Sincerity  is,  after  all,  in  civilized  so- 
ciety, a  questionable  virtue. 

Bella  had,  perhaps,  a  vague  suspicion  of  her  father's 
hypocrisy  ;  but  she  was  grateful  for  it.  It  left  her  in  a 
doubt,  which,  by  the  complex  action  of  her  mind,  might 
be  coaxed  into  a  flattering  certainty. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  gazing  up  into  his  face  with  eyes  in 
which  moisture  was  gathering,  "you  are  perfectly  lovely." 

"  I,"  he  cried,  gayly  ;  "good  gracious,  daughter,  an  old 
fellow  like  me.  You  evidently  think  I  was  fishing." 

"No,  papa,  but  you  are  just  sweet." 

"All  right,  dear.  What  a  charming  family  we  must  be  ! 
And  here  we  are  standing,  recklessly  wasting  our  sweet- 
ness upon  each  other.  Isn't  it  about  time  for  us  to  go 
down-stairs  ? " 

She  took  his  arm  with  nervous  trepidation,  and  leaned 
on  it  perceptibly  as  they  descended  to  the  parlor  floor. 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  dead  for  the  next  four  hours,  papa," 
she  whispered,  tremulously. 

"  My  dear,  sweet  child,  now  do  be  sensible,"  he  answered, 
with  a  tenderly  coaxing  intonation;  "you  know  every- 
thing will  go  well.  But,  if  anything  should  go  wrong,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause,  "then  remember  this:  Don't  apolo- 
gize for  it.  Laugh  it  off ;  make  a  joke  of  it." 

She  listened,  with  a  far-away  look,  as  if  she  but  half 
heard  what  he  was  saying. 

"Something  will  happen  to  make  us  wish  that  we  had 
never  brought  these  people  together,"  she  murmured. 

The  parson  caught  a  dim  little  glimmering  of  an  idea  ; 
but  it  was  not  one  capable  of  discussion,  and  he  held  his 
peace.  He  heard  the  rustle  of  starched  skirts  and  volumi- 
nous draperies  above  him,  and  glancing  upward  saw  Kate 
in  all  her  gorgeousness  bearing  down  upon  him.  Some- 
thing like  a  pang  nestled  in  his  left  ^side  when  this  splen- 
ii 


1 62  THE  MAMMON 

did  apparition  placed  itself  next  to  his  tired  and  nervous 
daughter,  and  eclipsed  her,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  with 
cruel  triumph.  I  fear,  however,  that  he  did  Kate  injus- 
tice. It  did  not  even  occur  to  her  to  compare  her  rare 
and  finished  self  with  her  excitable  little  cousin.  She 
looked  cool,  fresh,  and  self-contained,  because  she  felt  that 
she  had  nothing  in  the  world  at  stake  at  this  dinner,  and 
had  consented  to  it  as  a  mild  diversion,  and  because  it 
would  have  been  rude  to  show  how  supremely  indifferent 
the  whole  affair  was  to  her. 

The  company  was  prompt  in  arriving  except  Miss  Dallas 
and  Dr.  Hawk,  who  had  an  impression  that  it  was  fashion- 
able to  be  a  little  late.  Horace,  looking  a  trifle  uncom- 
fortable in  his  dress  coat,  was  the  first  to  be  introduced 
to  Miss  Van  Schaak,  and  assure  her  that  he  was  happy  to 
make  her  acquaintance.  She  noticed  that  he  bowed  with 
his  neck  and  not  with  his  hips,  and  that  he  wore  a  satin 
necktie.  The  little  sneering  smile  which  was  frequently 
lurking  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth  curled  her  fine 
lips,  but  she  suppressed  it  instantly.  Gertrude,  in  a  cool, 
sea-green  satin,  of  a  most  delicious  tint,  advanced  and 
shook  her  hand,  but  dispensed  with  the  introduction,  as 
they  had  met  before.  Kate's  feminine  lynx-eye  took  in  all 
the  details  of  the  costume,  and  decided  that  it  was  very 
nice  and  picturesquely  effective,  but  lacking  that  supreme 
touch  of  style  which  one  rarely  sees  outside  of  New 
York.  The  parson,  on  the  other  hand,  who  had  more  ap- 
preciation of  beauty  than  of  style,  heaved  a  long,  audible 
sigh  of  admiration. 

"  Isn't  this  rather  wicked  of  you,  Miss  Gertie,"  he  said, 
with  his  sly,  kindly  smile,  "to  be  laying  snares  for  an  old 
gentleman  like  me?" 

Gertrude  raised  her  languid  blue  eyes  to  the  pastor's 
face,  and  a  slow,  reluctant  smile  spread  over  her  feat- 
ures. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Robbins,"  she  said,  "it  has  always 
been  my  ambition  to  captivate  you,  but  you  remind  me  of 
the  wily  old  fox  that  kept  sniffing  about  the  lion's  den, 
making  complimentary  speeches,  but  refusing  to  enter.  " 

"  I  have  no  recollection  that  the  fox  in  question  made 
complimentary  speeches." 

"Why,  yes,  don't  you  remember  his  saying  that  all  the 
tracks  led  toward  the  lion,  and  none  away  ;  and  if  the  lion, 
as  I  imagine,  was  a  lioness,  she  must  have  felt  immensely 
flattered." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  163 

They  talked  on  in  this  bantering  strain  for  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes,  until  Dr.  Hawk  and  Miss  Dallas  made  their  ap- 
pearance. Dinner  was  then  announced,  and  each  gentle- 
man gave  his  arm  to  the  lady  who  had  been  allotted  to 
him.  Bella  had  long  contended  for  unsealed  envelopes,  to 
be  handed  to  the  gentlemen  by  a  butler  in  the  dressing- 
room,  but  her  father  had  insisted  that  so  much  style  would 
be  sure  to  shock  the  congregation,  and  give  his  enemies  a 
handle  against  him  in  the  meeting  of  the  board.  Accord- 
ingly he  assumed  himself  the  role  of  the  butler  and  gave 
the  needed  hints.  He  offered  his  arm  to  Kate,  and  led  the 
way  into  the  dining-room  ;  Dr.  Hawk  followed  with 
Gertrude  ;  then  came  Aleck  with  Pussy  Dallas,  and  Hor- 
ace and  Bella  brought  up  the  rear.  Mr.  Robbins  said 
grace  in  a  short  and  business-like  way,  and  the  hired 
butler  began  to  pour  golden  sauterne  (which  would  have 
done  honor  to  King  Belshazzar's  feast),  into  Bohemian 
glasses,  transparent  as  air  and  light  as  bubbles.  The  Blue 
Points  were  despatched  without  much  conversation,  ex- 
cept some  mildly  jocose  remarks,  addressed  by  the  host  to 
the  table  in  general.  The  sherry,  rich,  soft,  and  darkly 
amber-colored,  was  of  a  rare,  old  vintage,  and  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  was  sorely  tempted  to  break  the  etiquette  and  tell  his 
guests  what  precious  stuff  they  were  drinking ;  but  he  held 
himself  in  check,  though  it  made  him  wince  to  see  Horace 
drain  his  glass  with  no  more  sentiment  than  if  it  had  been 
Milwaukee  lager. 

In  spite  of  all  efforts  of  the  host  to  make  the  conversa- 
tion general,  the  tone  at  the  table  during  the  first  half 
hour  remained  stiff,  and  no  one,  perhaps  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Kate,  felt  completely  at  his  ease.  Horace  made 
two  or  three  abortive  efforts  to  engage  Bella  in  conversa- 
tion, but  she  had  her  eyes  on  the  butler  and  her  thoughts 
in  the  kitchen,  and  answered  him  in  a  random  and  dis- 
tracted manner  which  showed  that  she  had  not  been  listen- 
ing. Now  and  then  she  gave  whispered  orders  to  the 
butler,  and  laughed  nervously  at  her  partner's  soberest  re- 
marks, simply  because  she  had  to  make  some  demonstra- 
tion of  interest,  and  laughter,  as  a  rule,  is  more  appropriate 
than  tears.  Horace,  being  unaccustomed  to  such  neglect 
on  her  part,  and  being  too  obtuse  to  appreciate  the  situa- 
tion, was  inclined  to  retire  into  his  shell  and  keep  his 
brilliancy  to  himself.  He  had  been  placed  (alas,  he  never 
dreamed  with  what  deep  design)  on  the  same  side  of  the 
table  as  Miss  Van  Schaak,  witl>  Gertrude  and  Dr. 


1 64  THE  MAMMON 

Hawk  intervening,  and  he  had  therefore  no  chance  either 
of  seeing  or  conversing  with  the  guest  of  honor. 

A  rather  awkward  silence  was  beginning  to  settle  upon 
the  company  when  the  parson,  in  his  desperate  straight, 
hit  upon  literature  and  mentioned  a  popular  authoress 
whom  he  professed  to  admire. 

"  Don't  you  think  her  'Tuscaroora '  is  a  charming  piece 
of  work,"  he  said,  addressing  himself  to  Miss  Van  Schaack. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  is  very  nice,"  she  answered,  with  some 
animation  ;  "  but  do  you  know  what  I  heard  about  her 
the  other  day  ?  She  has  a  brother  who  is  a  tailor." 

All  expressed  their  astonishment  at  so  anomalous  a 
circumstance,  except  Horace,  who  leaned  forward  so  as  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  young  lady's  face  and  said  :  "  Well, 
is  he  a  good  tailor  ?  " 

This  brought  a  laugh,  of  course,  in  which  Kate  heartily 
joined.  "  Why  do  you  want  to  know?"  she  asked,  mer- 
rily ;  "  do  you  wish  to  employ  him  ?  " 

"No,"  Horace  replied  in  his  dry,  matter-of-fact  way, 
"  but  I  do  not  see  why  it  should  be  to  anybody's  discredit 
to  have  a  brother  who  is  a  tailor  ;  for  my  part,  I  would 
rather  have  a  brother  who  was  a  good  tailor,  than  one 
who  was  a  poor  lawyer  or  a  mediocre  doctor." 

"  Now,  don't  let  us  be  personal,  please,  Mr.  Larkin," 
cried  Dr.  Hawk  ;  "your  brother  might  object." 

There  was  a  jarring  note  there  and  everybody  felt  it. 
Aleck  colored  a  little,  and  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair  ; 
but  refused  otherwise  to  notice  the  challenge.  But  Kate 
felt  suddenly  exhilarated.  The  strong,  positive  voice 
which  had  the  courage  to  enunciate  what  appeared  to  her 
a  most  paradoxical  opinion,  aroused  in  her  a  spirit  of  con- 
troversy, and  set  her  thought  in  rapid  motion.  "  May  I 
ask  you,  Mr.  Larkin,"  she  began,  "  what  makes  a  man  esti- 
mable in  your  opinion  ?  " 

"  The  degree  with  which  he  understands  how  to  adapt 
himself  to  his  environment,"  Horace  replied,  promptly. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  Isn't  that  rather  formidable  ?  I  am  afraid  I 
am  an  awfully  inestimable  creature  then." 

"  Permit  me  to  disagree  with  you.  I  do  not  know  your 
environment,  but  seeing  you,  I  have  no  difficulty  in  form- 
ing my  inferences.  I  should  say  that  you  are  the  most 
perfect  product  of  a  charming  environment  that  I  ever  be- 
held." 

He  had  finished  this  rather  ponderous  remark  in  a  voice 
as  if  he  were  addressing  a  jury,  and  was  about  to  revert  to 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  165 

\\\§filet  de  b&uf,  when  he  met  a  pair  of  large  terrified  eyes 
fixed  upon  him.  "Why,  Miss  Bella,  what  is  the  matter?" 
he  inquired,  a  little  conscience-stricken,  "if  you  take  me  to 
task  like  that,  I  shall  have  to  be  mum." 

Kate  was  a  little  bit  too  overcome  by  the  compliment 
to  answer  immediately.  She  was  accustomed  enough  to 
flattery,  but  the  scientific  flavor  of  this  compliment  and 
the  tone  of  conviction  with  which  it  was  uttered  gave  it  a 
novel  and  not  unpleasing  impressiveness.  Mr.  Robbins 
in  the  meanwhile  seized  the  opportunity  to  interpose  his 
demurrer. 

"What  you  say  then,  Mr.  Larkin,"  he  began  a  little 
doubtfully,  sipping  his  wine  with  visible  gusto,  "don't  it 
amount  to  saying  that  the  most  successful  man  is  the 
most  estimable." 

"Yes,"  said  Horace,  unflinchingly.  "Success  is  after  all 
only  adaptation  to  environment.  Is  it  not  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Would  you  say  that  the  pickerel,  who  eats  all  the  other 
fishes  in  his  lake,  is  the  most  estimable  fish?"  the  doctor 
put  in,  anxious  to  display  his  intellectual  acumen. 

"Yes,  I  would.  In  the  conditions  under  which  he  lives 
he  has  but  the  choice  of  eating  or  being  eaten.  I  respect 
him  for  taking  a  clear  view  of  his  situation." 

"  And  that  translated  to  human  conditions,"  the  parson 
resumed,  "would  lead  to  the  doctrine  that  the  most  esti- 
mable man  was  he  who  robbed  most  successfully.  The 
longest  paw  and  the  strongest  jaw,  that  is  what  com- 
mands your  respect." 

"Well,"  Horace  replied  with  superb  sangfroid,  "I  do 
respect  a  strong  jaw  and  a  long  paw,  and  so  do  you, 
only  you  have  not  the  courage  to  admit  it.  The  preda- 
tory condition,  though  much  mitigated,  is  not  yet  obso- 
lete. If  the  alternative  is  presented  to  me  to  be  a  beast 
of  prey  or  a  beast  preyed  upon,  I  prefer  to  be  the  beast 
of  prey.  But  the  law,  of  which  I  am  a  humble  representa- 
tive, exists  for  the  purpose  of  restraining  man's  predatory 
instincts,  and  as  far  as  possible  saving  the  prey  from  the 
preyer." 

"  I  thought  it  existed  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening 
the  strong  jaw  and  lengthening  the  long  paw,"  Kate 
ejaculated  with  the  liveliest  interest. 

"  It  is  applied  for  that  purpose  quite  frequently,"  Hor- 
ace admitted  with  the  same  calm  superiority  ;  "  but  it  was 
not  designed  for  that  purpose." 


1 66  THE  MAMMON 

"You  mustn't  listen  to  him,  Miss  Van  Schaak,"  ex- 
claimed the  doctor  ;  "  he  is  an  inveterate  cynic." 

"It  is  my  brother's  hobby,"  Aleck  remarked,  leaning  a 
little  forward  over  the  table,  "  that  Providence  has  played  a 
trick  on  us  in  putting  us  here,  with  instincts  and  passions 
which  we  imagine  have  been  given  us  for  our  own  per- 
sonal happiness  and  gratification  ;  when  all  the  while 
they  subserve  only  some  general  purpose,  such  as  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  race  and  the  welfare  of  society." 

"  Look  here,  Aleck,  aren't  we  getting  into  rather  deep 
waters  ?  "  the  parson  interposed,  with  vague  apprehension. 

"No,  pray,  Uncle  ;  do  let  him  go  on,"  Kate  begged  with 
sparkling  eyes  ;  "  I  am  intensely  interested." 

"  I  retire  in  favor  of  the  junior  member  of  the  firm," 
muttered  Horace,  turning  his  attention  to  his  long-neglect- 
ed plate. 

"Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  sighed  the  parson,  "I 
give  in.  But  you  shan't  have  any  Madeira  as  long  as  you 
bother  about  the  riddles  of  existence.  Champagne  you 
can't  have  anyway,  because  this  is  a  clerical  house,  where 
the  flesh  has  to  be  mortified." 

He  hoped  to  give  a  new  turn  to  the  conversation  by  this 
playful  threat,  and  he  was  partly  successful.  For  five  or 
ten  minutes  the  problems  of  creation  were  allowed  to  rest, 
and  a  discussion  was  started  regarding  that  ever  fresh  and 
inexhaustible  theme — matrimony. 

"  Now,  love,"  Bella  observed  from  the  lower  end  of  the 
table  (it  was  the  first  time  the  poor  child  had  ventured  to 
take  her  mind  off  the  succession  of  the  dishes),  "  love 
surely  is  personal.  Who  ever  heard  of  any  one  falling  in 
love  for  the  welfare  of  society?" 

"  Nobody  ever  heard  of  it,  perhaps,"  Horace  replied  ; 
"  but  everybody  does  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  would  do  it  ?"  ejaculated 
Bella,  who  was  herself  nothing  if  not  personal. 

"  I  couldn't  escape  doing  it.  I  should  probably  not  go 
and  propose  to  a  young  lady  for  the  welfare  of  society,  or, 
at  least,  I  shouldn't  tell  her  that  I  did  ;  and  I  might  even 
cheat  myself  with  the  belief  that  I  was  doing  it  purely  to 
please  myself — or  the  young  lady." 

"Aren't  you  horrid  ?"  she  cried,  petulantly. 

"  Well  in  that  case  I  might  not  succeed  in  pleasing  the 
lady  in  question,"  he  repeated,  soberly  ;  "but  that  is  irrel- 
evant." 

"  Did  you  say  it  was  irrelevant  whether  you  succeeded  in 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  167 

pleasing  the  lady  to  whom  you  proposed  ?"  queried  Kate, 
with  her  handsome  eyebrows  raised. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  the  imperturbable  Horace  made  answer, 
chuckling  inwardly  at  the  delightful  paradox;  "  it  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  question."  There  was  nothing  he 
enjoyed  so  much  as  to  tease  with  an  air  of  logic  and 
judicial  sobriety. 

"I  think  you  would  soon  find  out  that  it  had,"  Miss 
Dallas  broke  forth  in  her  shrill  treble. 

"  I  fear  you  misunderstand  me,  ladies,"  he  resumed,  taking 
a  sip  of  claret,  and  wiping  his  moustache  with  his  napkin; 
"  what  I  assert  is  that  the  man  who  supposes  he  marries 
for  his  own  gratification  or  pleasure  is  a  deluded  fool.  He 
cherishes  certain  delusions,  which  it  is  very  fortunate, 
from  the  social  point  of  view,  that  he  should  cherish,  but 
which  nevertheless  are  delusions.  It  is  essential  to  the 
existence  of  society  that  he  should  have  children,  and  that 
he  should  take  good  care  of  them — adapt  them  well  to 
their  environment.  No  institution  could  be  more  admir- 
able for  that  purpose  than  marriage,  as  it  now  exists.  If  he 
gets  tired  of  his  wife,  he  might  think  that  it  would  con- 
duce to  his  happiness  to  put  her  away  and  take  another. 
But  society  comes  and  says  to  him  :  l  No,  my  dear  fellow, 
you  can't  do  that.  You  have  got  to  stick  to  your  bargain 
whether  you  like  it  or  not  ! '  I  think  society  is  perfectly 
right  in  saying  this  ;  but  nothing  can  persuade  me  that  it 
is  out  of  regard  for  the  man's  happiness  that  it  makes  the 
demand.  No,  it  is  for  its  own  preservation." 

"  But  society  says  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Mr.  Robbins  pro- 
tested, earnestly  ;  "it  permits  a  man,  when  it  is  no  longer 
for  his  own  good  or  that  of  his  wife  that  they  should  re- 
main together,  to  separate  ;  on  condition  that  he  shall  con- 
tinue to  support  her  and  his  children." 

"Very  true;  but  it  attaches  such  severe  penalties  to 
this  violent  resumption  of  liberty,  that  a  man  must  be  very 
reckless  to  venture  it ;  and,  moreover,  it  is  in  most  States 
only  under  certain  humiliating  conditions  that  divorces 
are  granted.  But,  as  I  have  said,  I  am  not  finding  fault 
with  this  state  of  things.  I  find  it  perfectly  proper.  Only 
I  think  it  is  wise  to  have  a  clear  view  of  the  terms  before 
signing  the  contract." 

"I  presume  then,  Mr.  Larkin,  that  you  never  intend 
to  marry/' 

"  Yes  I  do,  Miss  Van  Schaak  ;  but  I  also  intend  to  secure 
as  favorable  terms  for  myself  as  practicable." 


1 68  THE  MAMMON 

"And  would  it  be  indiscreet  to  ask  what  you  would  con- 
sider favorable  terms  ? " 

"  First  health,  then  wealth  ;  and  last  but  not  least  a 
sweet  temper  !  " 

"  And  in  return  for  all  these  fine  things,  what  do  you  in- 
tend to  offer  ? " 

"  My  own  valuable  self,  Miss  Van  Schaak,"  he  replied, 
with  a  rhetorical  gesture  ;  "the  worth  of  which  no  one 
knows  better  than  I  ;  a  man,"  he  continued,  burlesquing 
amusingly  his  own  manner,  "who  feels  his  superiority  to 
the  common  class  to  the  tips  of  his  toes  and  fingers,  and  to 
whom  no  achievement  in  the  line  of  his  ambition  is  unat- 
tainable." 

A  burst  of  laughter  greeted  this  eulogy  ;  and  under 
cover  of  the  laughter  Mr.  Robbins  found  occasion  to  say, 
sotto  voct,  to  Kate  : 

"You  may  think  that  is  a  joke  ;  but  I  assure  you  he 
means  every  word  of  it." 

"  Indeed  !  What  an  interesting  man,"  Kate  murmured 
in  return  ;  and  in  the  depth  of  her  heart  a  feeling  of  deep 
respect  and  admiration  for  Horace  Larkin  began  to 
assert  itself.  He  looked  a  trifle  uncouth  as  he  sat  there 
at  the  corner  of  the  table,  square,  rugged,  and  jovially 
challenging,  but  he  was,  for  all  that,  tremendously  impres- 
sive. And  she  did  not  doubt  that,  in  case  she  should  ever 
decide  to  regard  him  in  the  light  of  a  suitor,  she  might 
civilize  him  and  polish  off  his  most  glaring  angulari- 
ties. 

"  I  hope  you  will  succeed  in  finding  a  lady  who  will 
share  your  own  sentiments  in  regard  to  your  worth,"  she 
said,  smilingly. 

"  Oh,  no  danger  about  that,  ma'am,"  he  laughed,  with  an 
evident  intention  to  shock  ;  "  I  know  bushels  of  them." 

"  But  if  marriage  is  what  you  say  it  is,"  piped  Pussy 
Dallas,  blushing  at  her  own  audacity,  "  I  shouldn't  think 
you  would  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  What  did  I  say  it  was  ? "  Horace  queried,  nodding  en- 
couragingly to  the  girl  as  he  would  to  a  diffident  child. 

"  Didn't  you  say  it  was  a  contract  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  and  usually  a  pretty  bad  one." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Aleck,  "of  what  Mike  Maginnis 
said  to  Uncle  Obed  the  other  day.  You  know  Mike  has 
just  returned  from  the  prison  at  Sing  Sing,  where  he  has 
spent  four  years  for  homicide.  '  Well,  Mike,'  Uncle  Obed 
said  to  him,  '  how  did  you  like  Sing  Sing  ?'  '  Divil  a  bit, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  169 

Misther  Larrkin,'  Mike  answered  ;  *  I  didn't  loike  it  at  all, 
at  all  ;  and  I  tell  ye  this,  Misther  Larrkin,  that  if  they 
don't  make  it  more  sociable  and  home-loike  soon,  be  jab- 
ers,  no  dacent  man  will  want  to  go  there.'  It  is  very  much 
so  with  matrimony,  according  to  Horace's  definition  ;  it 
stands  in  need  of  improvement,  or  no  decent  man  will 
want  to  go  there." 

"  But  if  marriage  is  such  a  bad  thing,"  Bella  observed, 
when  the  laughter  again  had  subsided,  "  why  do  so  many 
people  suffer  from  unhappy  love  ?" 

"I  didn't  know  so  many  people  did,"  Horace  replied  ; 
"but  perhaps  you  are  right.  I  once  knew  a  man  who 
suffered  from  an  unhappy  love  for  himself." 

"  An  unhappy  love  for  himself ! "  Kate  exclaimed. 
"  How  was  that  possible  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  was  an  intensely  vain  fellow ;  head  over 
ears  in  love  with  himself  ;  but  in  his  soberer  moments  he 
knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  an  inane  wind-bag,  inflated 
beyond  his  capacity.  He  loved  himself,  but  he  was  un- 
able to  return  his  own  affection." 

Horace  let  his  glance  slyly  glide  toward  Dr.  Hawk, 
while  he  related  this  incident  ;  but  he  refrained  from 
making  the  application  sufficiently  pointed  to  be  detected 
by  anybody  else. 

The  conversation  now  lapsed  into  commonplaces  ;  but 
the  tone  grew  more  and  more  animated,  and  it  was  evident 
that  every  winged  moment  was  charged  to  the  full  with 
pleasure.  Even  Gertrude,  who  was  usually  subdued  in 
company,  lost  her  listless  air,  and  became  engaged  in  a 
playful  controversy  with  the  doctor.  The  ice-cream  un- 
happily had  been  taken  out  of  the  freezer  a  little  too  early 
and  not  too  skilfully  ;  and  Bella,  who  was  just  congratu- 
lating herself  on  the  absence  of  accidents,  began  to  cud- 
gel her  poor  brain  to  invent  a  joke  with  which  to  mitigate 
this  disaster.  But  she  found  she  was  unequal  to  anything 
in  the  humorous  line,  and  her  father  was  eating  in  the 
most  absent-minded  way,  without  discovering  that  any- 
thing was  wrong. 

"  I  am  afraid,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  she  said  at  last, 
with  a  happy  inspiration,  "  that  this  ice-cream  has  suffered 
somewhat  from  your  eloquence." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  Mr.  Robbins,  with  masculine  obtuse- 
ness.  "  I  find  it  very  good." 

"  How  does  eloquence  affect  ice-cream,  anyway  ? "  in- 
quired Dr.  Hawk. 


I/O  THE  MAMMON 

"  It  makes  it  soft,"  said  Bella,  hoping  to  be  explicit. 

"  How  extraordinary,"  ejaculated  the  doctor  ;  "  I  have 
known  eloquence  to  make  me  soft,  but  that  it  could  thaw 
ice-cream " 

"We  have  talked  too  much,  and  the  ice-cream  had  to 
wait,"  cried  the  daughter  of  the  house,  in  laughing  de- 
spair. "  Do  you  understand  that,  now  ?  " 

"  You  mean  I  have  talked  too  much,"  Horace  remarked, 
dryly  ;  "  for  I  believe  it's  I  who  have  done  most  of  the 
talking." 

"You  couldn't  talk  too  much  if  you  tried,"  she  mur- 
mured, confidingly,  fixing  her  big,  dreamy  eyes  upon  him 
in  undisguised  adoration.  They  told  the  tale  they  had 
told  so  often  before,  and  they  told  nothing  that  he  was 
not  perfectly  well  aware  of.  But  this  tender  message, 
which  had  always  before  found  a  slight  response  and 
never  failed  to  cause  a  flattered  gratification,  made  him 
now  uncomfortable  and  vaguely  uneasy.  Instead  of  mak- 
ing a  lover-like  acknowledgment,  as  he  had  often  done 
before,  he  bent  over  his  plate  and  pretended  not  to  observe 
the  significant  glance.  He  thus  missed  seeing  the  hot 
blush  of  humiliation  that  poured  itself  over  the  girl's  neck 
and  cheeks,  and  burned  in  the  tips  of  her  pink  ears.  The 
coffee  had  in  the  meanwhile  been  served,  and  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  gave  the  keys  of  his  precious  cabinet  to  the  butler, 
who  presently  returned  with  three  boxes  of  carefully 
sorted  cigars.  The  gentlemen  made  their  selections,  and 
the  ladies  seized  the  opportunity  to  withdraw  into  the  par- 
lor. They  would  have  liked  to  remain,  but  lacked  cour- 
age to  make  the  proposition.  Their  departure  was  the 
signal  for  increased  hilarity  in  the  dining-room,  while  in 
the  parlor  an  awkward  silence  prevailed.  Each  felt  so 
curiously  alien  to  the  rest  ;  a  chill  stole  in  between  them  ; 
and  nobody  could  think  of  a  remark  which  did  not  seem 
glaringly  artificial. 

"Girls,"  said  Pussy  Dallas,  at  last,  in  her  shrill  stac- 
cato, "  I  think  cigars  are  just  horrid.  Either  men  ought 
to  stop  smoking,  or  women  ought  to  take  it  up.  It  would 
just  serve  them  right." 

"You  must  be  awfully  dependent  upon  gentlemen's  so- 
ciety, Pussy,"  Gertrude  remarked.  "  I  don't  object  to 
their  smoking  as  much  as  they  like." 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do  say  it,"  Miss  Dallas  de- 
clared. "  I  think  it  is  much  better  fun  to  talk  to  gentle- 
men than  to  ladies.  There's  no  excitement,  somehow,  in 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  I/ 1 

talking  with  girls.  It  doesn't  matter  what  you  say  to 
them.  Nothing  ever  comes  of  it." 

Pussy  Dallas  had  earned  for  herself  the  nickname  "The 
Students'  Comfort,"  by  her  undisguised  devotion  to  the 
masculine  sex,  and  particularly  that  part  of  it  which  fre- 
quented the  university.  It  was  told  of  her  (though  of 
course  it  was  base  slander)  that  she  made  it  a  rule  to  be 
engaged  to  at  least  one  man  in  each  class.  She  had  a  deli- 
cate, blonde,  dimpled  face,  and  looked  the  picture  of  flir- 
tatious innocence.  She  was  always  ready  for  anything 
that  promised  "fun  ;"  a  very  type  of  laughing,  irrespon- 
sible, American  girlhood.  Life -was  to  her  a  prolonged 
"lark,"  with  no  more  serious  troubles  than  such  as  arose 
from  bad  weather  or  a  gentleman's  failure  to  keep  an  en- 
gagement. Her  fresh  pouting  lips  seemed  made  to  be 
kissed,  and,  unless  rumor  belied  them,  fulfilled  their  des- 
tiny. She  revelled  in  nonsense,  and  had  felt  herself  a  lit- 
tle constrained  this  evening  by  the  dignity  of  the  company 
and  the  vague  awe  she  entertained  for  Horace  Larkin, 
who  was  the  only  younger  gentleman  in  Torryville  with 
whom  she  could  not  flirt. 

It  was  a  relief  to  the  four  damsels  when  the  scraping  of 
the  chairs  upon  the  hardwood  floor  announced  that  the 
session  of  the  "  tobacco  council  "  was  adjourned.  As  soon 
as  the  folding  doors  were  pushed  aside,  Horace  walked 
with  a  thoughtless  impulsiveness,  which  seemed  wholly 
unlike  him,  to  the  lounge  where  Miss  Van  Schaak  was 
sitting,  and  taking  his  seat  at  her  side  calmly  ousted  the 
doctor,  who  had  anticipated  his  intention.  Hawk  was 
standing  in  front  of  her,  with  his  Hamlet  look  upon  his 
brow,  and  his  eyes  beaming  with  melancholy  admiration. 
He  made  two  or  three  onsets  to  say  startling  things,  but 
presently  wilted  under  Horace's  pitiless  gaze,  became  in- 
coherent, and  withdrew  in  confusion.  Kate  smiled  with 
evident  amusement,  and  womanlike,  turned  her  undivided 
attention  to  the  conqueror.  A  bond  of  sympathy  seemed 
to  have  sprung  up  between  them  at  the  table,  and  each 
was  conscious  of  the  other's  goodwill.  They  talked  with 
great  animation  for  half  an  hour,  until  the  sound  of  wheels 
outside  and  the  snorting  of  the  horses  reminded  them  that 
it  was  time  to  break  up.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the 
rest  of  the  company  hailed  the  signal  with  pleasure  ;  but 
Horace,  surpassing  himself  in  brilliancy,  talked  on  more 
eagerly  in  order  to  have  an  excuse  for  remaining.  He 
liked,  of  course,  to  hear  himself  talk.  What  good  talker 


1/2  THE  MAMMON1 

does  not  ?  But  what  he  liked  much  more  was  to  watch 
the  effect  of  his  speech  upon  Kate.  She  was  not  in  the 
least  demonstrative  ;  did  not  explode  or  exclaim  at  his 
witticisms  and  startling  paradoxes.  There  was  a  stately 
composure  in  her  attitude  even  when  she  was  animated  ; 
and  a  charming  suave  dignity  which  was  the  perfection  of 
good  breeding.  She  made  him  feel,  in  an  indefinable  way, 
that  the  attention  which  she  bestowed  upon  him  was  a 
precious  thing,  which  was  not  lightly  accorded  to  any- 
body ;  and  he  was  more  flattered  by  this  reserved  and 
qualified  approval  on  her  part,  than  by  the  excited 
enthusiasm  of  the  damsels  who  daily  flung  themselves  at 
his  head.  He  was,  after  all,  uncertain  whether  her  affabil- 
ity was  anything  more  than  the  natural  desire  of  every 
woman  to  please,  reinforced  by  perfect  manners  and  much 
experience  in  the  arts  of  society.  And  it  was  this  doubt 
which  tormented  him  when  he  rose  to  take  his  leave,  and 
to  remove  which  he  had  so  long  postponed  his  departu-re. 
But  it  was  still  there  when  he  walked  with  his  brother 
through  the  dim  moonlight,  and  it  got  in  some  vague  way 
mingled  with  the  fresh,  damp  smell  of  bursting  buds  and 
sprouting  leaves,  which  careered  in  warm  gusts  through 
the  night.  "  I  do  like  a  woman  who  doesn't  fly  off  the 
handle,"  he  said  to  Aleck,  in  a  tone  of  deep  conviction. 

But  in  the  parsonage,  when  all  was  still,  and  Kate  had 
ascended  to  the  upper  region,  Bella  stood  and  gazed  at 
her  father  with  a  little  strained  smile  and  a  pathetic  pre- 
tence of  light-heartedness,  which,  however,  did  not  deceive 
him.  She  looked  pale,  and  weary  unto  death  ;  a  strange 
gray  tint  became  visible  about  her  eyes,  which  burned 
with  a  feverish  brightness. 

"  My  sweet  girl,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  he  asked  with 
affectionate  solicitude. 

"  Oh,  papa,  I  was  only  congratulating  myself  that  every- 
thing went  so  well,"  she  chirped  in  a  faint  unnatural 
treble,  and  without  a  moment's  warning  swooned  in  his 
arms. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  173 


CHAPTER   XX. 

PENELOPE'S    SUITORS. 

It  was  astonishing  what  a  centre  of  attraction  the  parson- 
age became  during  Miss  Van  Schaak's  sojourn  in  Torryville. 
Dr.  Hawk  was  almost  a  daily  visitor,  and  it  became  ru- 
mored in  the  town  that  he  was  more  than  willing  to  desert 
the  mythical  mortgagee  of  his  affections,  if  the  dazzling 
maiden  from  Gramercy  Park  could  be  induced  to  take 
her  place.  He  ordered  roses  by  express  from  New  York, 
and  sent  them,  accompanied  by  some  heart-rending  lines 
from  Omar  Khayyam,  to  the  parsonage  ;  and  when  they 
failed  to  make  any  perceptible  impression  he  sent  original 
poems,  steeped  in  the  blackest  melancholy.  He  even 
made  a  personal  visit  to  the  metropolis  on  some  mysterious 
errand,  and  knew  on  his  return  more  of  the  Van  Schaak 
family,  both  as  to  its  financial  and  social  standing  than 
any  other  man  in  Torryville.  He  tried  the  role  of  every 
heroic  figure  known  to  the  poets,  in  order  to  win  Miss 
Van  Schaak's  favor  ;  but  came  at  last  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  was  a  sordid,  earth-clogged  soul,  without  any  higher 
outlook  or  appreciation  of  nobler  things.  It  took  him 
fully  a  month  to  make  this  discovery,  and  it  would  have 
taken  him  longer,  if  he  had  been  able  to  detect  the  faintest 
will-o'-the-wisp  of  hope  in  the  thorny  path  before  him. 
But  there  was  no  use  disguising  the  fact  that  Miss  Van 
Schaak  treated  him,  as  Horace  would  have  said,  like  "a 
yaller  dog."  She  was  extremely  "  sniffy,"  and  those  peculiar 
lines  on  each  side  of  her  nose,  which  made  one  suspect  the 
presence  of  a  bad  smell,  were  apt  to  become  quite  visible 
when  the  doctor's  name  was  announced.  She  laughed  at 
his  fine  sentiments,  called  him  an  absurd  little  village 
beau,  with  his  poor  little  theatricals,  and  crushed  him 
completely  by  occasionally  correcting  his  random  quota- 
tions. She  was  as  discouraging  as  it  was  possible  for 
any  woman  to  be  to  a  man  who  makes  it  evident  that  he 
is  willing  to  place  his  name,  his  heart,  and  his  other  assets 
at  her  disposal.  It  was,  of  course,  flying  in  the  face  of  provi- 


1/4  THE  MAMMON 

dence,  when,  in  spite  of  all  these  unfavorable  indications, 
he  made  her  a  formal  proposal  of  marriage,  and  received 
a  prompt  and  unequivocal  refusal.  For  all  that,  the 
doctor  could  not  even  then  reconcile  himself  to  the  inevit- 
able. He  valued  himself  so  highly  that  he  could  not 
comprehend  how  anybody  could  fail  to  perceive  what  an 
exceptional  and  superior  character  he  was.  He  found 
himself  so  profoundly  interesting,  and  had  been  so  spoiled 
by  the  worship  of  the  Torryville  damsels,  that  he  could 
only  explain  Miss  Van  Schaak's  freezing  indifference  on 
the  supposition  that  some  one  (probably  Horace  or  Aleck) 
had  slandered  him,  or  that  the  lady's  affections  were  al- 
ready bespoken. 

It  was  odd,  but  as  far  as  appearances  went,  Professor 
Ramsdale  was  the  one  of  Kate's  admirers  who,  to  use  the 
local  phrase,  "  had  the  inside  track."  He  had  this  to  recom- 
mend him,  that  he  was  rather  a  bashful  man,  and  cut  no  ca- 
pers in  order  to  make  himself  interesting.  He  had  been  so 
definitely  and  inexorably  dismissed  by  Gertrude,  in  spite 
of  his  perseverance,  that  he  might  well  be  excused  if  he 
began  to  consider  the  prospect  of  finding  consolation  in 
other  quarters.  He  had,  indeed,  on  one  occasion,  declared 
that,  if  she  refused  him  seven  times,  he  would  persevere 
even  unto  seventy  times  seven  ;  but  I  fear  that  fidelity,  if 
carried  to  such  extremes,  would  cease  to  be  a  virtue  ; 
perhaps  Ramsdale  himself  detected  a  Quixotic  strain  in 
his  constancy.  Altogether  his  first  and  chiefest  title  to 
consideration  in  Kate's  eyes  was  not  his  endurance  as  a 
rejected  lover,  but  the  fact  that  he  was  a  good  horseback 
rider.  He  not  only  had  a  good  seat,  but  he  had  the 
muscles  of  a  Hercules  and  could  manage  any  horse  that 
was  to  be  found  in  that  part  of  the  State.  Horseback  rid- 
ing was  the  only  amusement  that  Torryville  afforded 
which  did  not  tire  her,  and  as  Ramsdale  was  the  only 
available  cavalier  for  such  excursions,  she  must  have  been 
blind  to  her  own  interests  if  she  had  failed  in  a  mild  way 
to  cultivate  him.  There  was  something  honest  and  sturdy 
about  him,  which  inspired  confidence  and  made  brilliancy 
seem  odious.  He  was  restful  and  comfortable,  a  very 
haven  of  refuge  from  fatiguing  incidents  and  intellectual 
effort.  He  had  the  rare  accomplishment  of  being  silent 
without  appearing  stupid,  and  permitting  his  companion 
to  be  silent,  without  embarrassment.  They  rode  together 
mile  after  mile,  up  one  hill  and  down  another,  without 
opening  their  mouths,  except  for  an  occasional  remark 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  175 

about  their  horses  or  the  weather.  If  her  saddle-girth 
was  too  tight  he  loosened  it ;  if  it  was  too  loose,  he  tight- 
ened it.  He  swung  her  off  and  into  her  saddle  with  a 
beautiful  unsentimental  precision,  as  if  she  were  a  nice 
boy  whom  he  had  taken  in  charge.  If  the  horse  was 
uneasy  or  "  didn't  act  right,"  he  lifted  up  its  hoofs,  one 
after  another,  picked  out  a  pebble  that  had  got 
wedged  in  under  the  shoe,  lengthened  or  shortened  the 
bridle,  patted  and  talked  to  the  animal  like  an  old  friend. 
There  was  no  longer  a  doubt  in  Kate's  mind  that  men 
of  this  type  have  their  uses,  and  that  a  woman  might  do 
worse  than  select  one  of  them  as  her  life-long  companion. 
And  yet  (so  contradictory  is  woman's  nature),  when 
Ramsdale,  encouraged  by  her  favor,  ventured  to  make  an 
excursion  into  the  territory  of  sentiment,  she  felt  offended, 
as  if  he  had  abused  her  confidence,  and  froze  him  to 
the  core  of  his  heart  by  her  chilly  remoteness.  The 
Professor,  taking  warning,  dropped  the  dangerous  theme 
and  lapsed  stolidly  back  into  his  role  of  gentleman  groom 
and  thus  saved  himself  from  further  humiliation. 

It  was  somewhat  of  a  disappointment  to  Kate,  though  it 
did  not  perceptibly  affect  her  spirits,  that  Horace  Larkin 
held  aloof  and  did  not  join  the  circle  of  her  adorers.  She 
had  heard  the  rumor  that  he  was  as  good  as  engaged  to 
her  cousin  Bella  ;  nay,  that  the  day  of  their  marriage  was 
already  fixed  upon.  But  he  surely  did  not  trouble  Bella 
with  his  attentions,  and  if  he  was  in  love  with  her,  he 
deserved  credit  for  the  success  with  which  he  disguised  his 
sentiment.  Bella  had,  to  be  sure,  thrown  out  a  very 
distinct  hint,  the  day  of  the  dinner  party  ;  but  Kate  was  of 
opinion  that  it  was  her  wish  to  be  engaged  to  Horace, 
rather  than  the  accomplished  fact,  which  she  signalized  by 
her  awkward  little  exclamation.  Or,  very  likely,  it  was 
intended  to  warn  trespassers  off  the  premises  under  the 
penalty  of  the  law. 

"  How  do  you  like  Horace  Larkin?"  she  had  asked, 
with  an  air  of  indifference  which  would  have  been  mis- 
leading, if  it  had  not  been  a  trifle  overdone. 

"  I  like  him  very  much,"  Kate  had  replied,  with  thought- 
less directness.  "  I  think  he  is  a  very  clever  man." 

"  O,  I  am  so  glad  you  like  him,"  her  cousin  had  cried, 
with  sudden  ardor ;  "  I  think  as  you  do,  that  he  is  immensely 
clever." 

It  was,  of  course,  difficult  to  tell  how  much  intention 
there  was  in  this  apparently  guileless  declaration  ;  but 


1/6  THE  MAMMON 

Kate  refused  to  take  it  seriously,  or  allow  herself  to  be  in 
any  way  influenced  by  conjectures.  It  piqued  her,  how- 
ever, more  than  she  would  admit,  that  the  one  man  in 
Torryville  whom  she  had  honored  with  her  preference  had 
the  impertinence  to  make  himself  precious,  and  seek  no 
opportunities  to  deepen  the  impression  which  he  well  knew 
that  he  had  made.  Women,  she  thought,  had  a  monopoly 
in  that  kind  of  tactics,  and  it  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  a 
man  to  rival  them  in  intricate  demeanor.  She  heard  a 
rumor  that  Horace  was  "  laying  pipes  "  for  his  fall  campaign, 
and  that  he  already  had  a  sure  thing  of  it,  if  he  desired  to 
go  to  the  Assembly.  But  it  seemed  inconceivable  that 
anyone  could  find  such  business  more  important  than  the 
cultivation  of  her  valuable  favor.  She  did  not  in  the  re- 
motest way  betray  her  solicitude  on  this  subject ;  but  for 
all  that,  she  occupied  herself  a  good  deal  with  meditations 
concerning  the  motive  and  intentions  of  this  enigmatical 
young  man,  who  could  afford  to  throw  away  an  acquaint- 
ance worth  millions  of  dollars,  as  if  it  had  been  a  burnt- 
out  match. 

It  was  while  her  vanity  yet  suffered  under  the  infer- 
ences she  was  obliged  to  draw  from  Horace's  conduct,  that 
he  surprised  her,  one  afternoon,  by  calling  with  the  high 
family  buggy,  and  the  ornamental  Jim,  and  inviting  her 
to  take  a  ride.  It  seemed  an  odd  thing  to  do — especially 
climbing  into  that  uncomfortable  vehicle,  which  brought 
you  into  such  unpleasantly  close  contact  with  your  escort ; 
but  she  concluded,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  that  she 
was  too  interested  in  knowing  what  he  would  do  next,  to 
forfeit  the  chance  by  straining  a  point  of  etiquette.  So 
off  they  started  together,  making  a  sensation  in  every 
street  where  they  appeared  (though  there  was  little  exter- 
nal evidence  of  excitement),  and  sending  clouds  of  dust 
out  over  the  unmown  meadows.  Though  the  weather  was 
perfect,  being  neither  too  warm  nor  too  cool,  and  the  sun 
shone  with  the  most  genial  moderation — as  if  he  had  no 
wish  in  the  world  but  to  make  himself  agreeable— her 
companion  seemed  to  be  a  little  distant  at  times,  and  found 
fault  with  the  horse  without  the  least  visible  pretext. 
He  was  neither  brilliant  nor  conspicuously  amiable,  but 
was  exerting  himself  with  fair  success  to  be  polite.  He 
pointed  with  his  whip  to  the  various  farm-houses  they 
passed,  told  who  lived  there,  an'd  the  noteworthy  circum- 
stances in  the  lives  of  the  inhabitants.  One  farmer  had 
been  suspected  of  poisoning  his  first  wife,  though  nothing 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  1/7 

was  ever  proved  against  him  ;  another  had  made  life  a 
burden  to  his  consort,  and  had,  with  admirable  courtesy, 
furnished  her  with  a  rope  when  she  threatened  to  hang 
herself  ;  a  third  had  objected  to  his  daughter's  marriage 
to  a  neighbor's  son,  whereupon  the  young  people  had 
taken  a  horse  and  buggy,  and  clasped  in  each  other's  em- 
brace, had  killed  each  other  with  a  pistol,  and  the  horse, 
from  old  habit,  had  taken  the  homeward  way  and  carried 
them  straight  to  the  relentless  father's  door.  There  was 
much  more  of  the  same  sort  ;  and  the  conclusion  he  drew 
from  it  was  that  it  was  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
worst  crime  was  confined  to  the  city.  In  the  United 
States  as  in  Russia,  people  often  committed  crimes  from 
sheer  boredom  ;  on  the  whole  he  didn't  blame  them.  If 
nothing  else  of  interest  happened  in  his  life — if  he  had 
no  ambition  to  furnish  him  with  a  definite  object  in  living, 
it  was  not  improbable  that  he  might  take  to  beating  his 
wife,  in  order  to  furnish  incidents  and  relieve  the  monot- 
ony of  existence  for  himself  as  well  as  for  her. 

Kate  liked  this  badinage  well  enough,  but  was  impelled 
to  object  in  order  to  keep  the  conversation  going. 

"But  suppose  your  wife  objected,"  she  said,  "what 
would  you  do  then  ?  " 

"  I  intend  to  have  her  so  well  disciplined  that  she  won't 
object,"  he  answered,  with  his  serio-comic  air. 

"  I  am  afraid  you'll  make  some  unpleasant  discoveries 
fcfter  your  marriage,"  she  ejaculated,  laughing. 

"  Perhaps.  But  I'm  equal  to  dealing  with  them.  Mar- 
riage, you  know,  is  a  contract  of  mutual  disagree- 
ment  " 

"  I  should  rather  call  it  a  compact  of  mutual  conces- 
sion." 

"Oh,  no,  that  would  never  do.  Disagreement  is  inevit- 
able. Concession  on  the  man's  part  would  be  fatal  to  the 
domestic  peace.  There  must  be  a  certain  amount  of  des- 
potism— wise,  paternal  despotism,  if  you  like — in  a  well- 
regulated  family.  Civilized  people  agree  to  disagree,  and 
disagree  amicably  ;  savages  disagree  and  fight  about  it." 

"  Then  you  class  yourself  among  savages  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  had  a  good  deal  of 
the  savage  left  in  me." 

"Then  I  hope  you'll  also  marry  a  savage." 

"  I  doubt  that  ;  for  I'm  just  civilized  enough  to  have  a 
keen  admiration  for  a  civilized  woman." 

He  turned  and   looked  at  her  with  sudden  intentness  ; 

12 


1/8  THE  MAMMON 

and  whether  it  was  the  unexpectedness  of  the  glance  or 
its  evident  significance,  she  felt  a  vague  tumult  of  heart, 
and  gazed  out  over  the  lake  in  order  to  hide  her  blushes. 
Such  a  thing  had  never  occurred  in  her  previous  experi- 
ence. She  had  never  met  a  man  before  who  had  thrown 
her  oif  her  base  and  made  her  lose  her  stately  composure. 
She  knew  the  symptoms  of  love  from  novels,  and  sus- 
pected that  this  was  one  of  them.  But  the  golden  calm  in 
which  her  days  had  been  passed  had  never  before  been 
invaded  by  any  emotion  strong  enough  to  ruffle  her  superb 
equanimity. 

Horace  Larkin,  conscious  that  he  had  scored  a  point, 
whipped  up  the  horse,  and  for  a  while  they  spun  rapidly 
over  the  smooth  road  along  the  lake  shore.  The  water 
shone  like  glass,  and  a  fisherman  who  was  rowing  out  to  ex- 
amine his  traps  sent  long  diverging  undulations  shoreward 
from  his  bow.  A  few  stray  gulls,  who  had  really  no  busi- 
ness in  an  inland  sea,  kept  soaring  silently  above  him,  and 
occasionally  dipped  in  his  wake  in  order  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  their  mimic  selves  which  floated  up  to  meet 
them  from  below.  Ugly  little  boat-sheds,  rugged  tree-root 
fences,  and  maples,  pines,  and  locusts  seemed  to  be  running 
a  race  for  life  toward  the  swift-footed  Jim  and  the  occu- 
pants of  the  buggy,  and  Kate  felt  the  exhilaration  of  the 
speed  and  breathed  writh  deep  contentment.  She  sat 
leaning  backward,  regarding  her  companion  furtively,  and 
endeavoring  to  analyze  the  impression  he  made  upon  her. 
She  had  nearly  recovered  her  wonted  calm  ;  though  there 
was  yet  a  centre  of  disturbance,  as  the  weather  reports  say, 
deep  down  below  the  surface,  where  the  heart  roots  inter- 
twine in  the  soul's  primeval  dusk.  He  was  right,  Kate 
thought,  or  more  than  half  right  in  calling  himself  a  sav- 
age ;  and  she  was  not  quite  sure  but  that  it  was  the  savage 
in  him  which  attracted  her.  She  was  conscious  of  that 
dim  fear  which,  in  a  woman  of  her  type,  may  be  the  begin- 
ning of  love  ;  she  knew  that  if  he  made  up  his  mind  irre- 
vocably to  make  her  his  wife,  she  would  in  the  end  have 
to  surrender.  She  almost  hoped  with  a  hidden  dread  lest 
her  hope  might  be  fulfilled,  that  he  would  dismiss  the 
thought  of  her  and  let  her  lapse  back  again  into  her  trivial 
existence,  and  go  his  own  way  without  her.  She  had  always 
thought  that  she  would  marry  a  handsome  man.  He  was 
not  handsome  ;  rather,  perhaps,  the  reverse.  The  very 
way  he  sat  in  the  buggy,  half  relaxed,  leaning  forward  with 
his  elbows  on  his  knees  ;  the  crude  strength  of  his  feat- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  179 

tfres,  the  haphazard  fit  of  his  clothes,  the  general  lack  of  fin- 
ish in  his  whole  appearance,  all  showed  how  remote  he  was 
from  her  sphere  of  life.  He  was  not  a  thoroughbred  ;  she 
came  very  near  insinuating  that  he  was  not,  according  to 
her  former  standard,  a  gentleman.  And  yet  there  was  that 
in  him  which  made  every  man  she  had  ever  known  seem 
insignificant  by  comparison.  He  was  a  man — every  inch 
of  him— and  he  gave  the  correct  measure  of  himself  when 
he  said  that  nothing  in  the  line  of  his  ambition  was  unat- 
tainable to  him. 

When  they  had  driven  six  or  seven  miles  along  the  lake 
shore,  a  road  was  found  which  led  back  to  the  town  over 
the  hills  and  which  afforded  a  much  more  extended  view 
of  the  landscape.  The  slope  was  rugged,  and  often  the 
overgrown  boughs  of  the  sycamores  reached  half-way 
across  the  highway  and  dashed  their  moist  leaves  into  the 
faces  of  the  occupants  of  the  buggy.  This  occasioned  a 
little  excitement  and  unforeseen  collisions  and  contacts,  to 
which  the  proper  Kate,  if  they  had  happened  to  anyone 
but  herself,  would  have  applied  the  severest  adjectives. 
But  somehow  she  failed,  in  this  instance,  to  resent  the  im- 
pertinence of  the  boughs,  and  her  spirits  rose  with  her 
agitation,  until  she  fairly  surprised  herself  by  her  gay 
laughter  and  senseless,  unrestrained  mirth.  This  was  surely 
not  the  Kate  who  left  New  York  three  weeks  ago — whose 
glacial  propriety  had  frozen  the  courage  of  all  but  the 
most  adventurous  candidates  for  her  hands. 

It  was  about  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  they 
reached  the  University  campus,  and  drove  slowly  past  the 
great  piles  of  gray  sandstone  with  their  long,  regular  rows 
of  windows,  in  which  the  afternoon  sun  was  burning  with 
a  fiery  glow.  They  met  companies  of  students  who  came 
from  the  laboratories,  carrying  their  books  and  luncheon 
baskets,  and  a  few  coeducational  damsels  who  carried 
tennis  rackets.  The  broad  gravelled  avenues  were  planted 
on  either  side  with  young  elms  and  maples,  which  prom- 
ised ample  shade  to  future  generations,  arid  a  glaringly 
red  brick  chapel  pointed  its  spire  against  a  glaringly  blue 
sky.  Along  the  road  lay,  at  short  intervals,  professors' 
cottages,  of  all  shades  of  architectural  pretentiousness 
and  simplicity  ;  and  below  these  were  seen  two  rather 
large  and  handsome  buildings,  which  were  the  chapter 
houses  of  the  secret  Greek  letter  societies.  Horace  was 
explaining  the  character  of  these  latter  institutions  to 
Kate,  as  far  as  his  pledge  to  respect  their  secrets  would 


ISO  THE  MAMMON 

permit,  when  suddenly  a  flag  was  run  up  on  the  roof  of 
one  of  the  mysterious  edifices. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?"  she  asked,  with  the  liveliest 
curiosity. 

"  It  is  a  greeting  to  you,"  he  answered  ;  "  it  is  my  so- 
ciety." 

"  How  very  nice  of  them.     Do  they  receive  visitors  ?" 

"  Certainly.  I  shall  be  happy  to  show  you  the  house  if 
you  care  to  see  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  very  much.  But  tell  me  first  what 
you  do  there." 

"  Oh,  we  practise  horrid  midnight  rites  that  would  make 
every  individual  hair  upon  your  head  stand  on  end  like 
the  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine." 

She  laughed  while  he  helped  her  out  of  the  buggy  ;  Jim 
seized  the  opportunity  to  shake  himself  so  that  the  har- 
ness rattled,  but  consented,  without  further  remonstrance, 
to  be  tied  to  the  stone  hitching-post.  Half  a  dozen  stu- 
dents, anxious  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house,  appeared  on 
the  piazza  without  waiting  for  the  door  bell  to  be  rung, 
and  were  introduced  by  Horace  to  Miss  Van  Schaak. 
There  was  one  young  man  named  Lovel,  who  looked 
pleased  and  bashful,  and  another  named  Cottrell,  whose 
cheerful  self-confidence  and  loudly  fashionable  attire  pro- 
claimed him  a  denizen  of  the  Pacific  coast.  These  con- 
stituted themselves  a  committee  of  reception,  and  exhib- 
ited, with  much  pride,  the  handsome  appointments  of  the 
house. 

"  And  now,"  said  Kate  to  Cottrell,  who,  with  superflu- 
ous courtesy,  insisted  upon  her  taking  his  arm,  "  I  should 
like  to  see  some  of  the  mysteries." 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  we  are  not  permitted  to  admit 
strangers  to  the  Chapter  Room,"  the  Californian  replied, 
with  sudden  solemnity. 

"Who  forbids  you?" 

"Our  laws  and  traditions." 

Kate  had  to  laugh  again  and  turned  to  Horace,  whom 
she  begged  to  exercise  his  authority.  The  door  was  then 
thrown  open  to  a  large  and  sunny  room  with  a  beautiful 
outlook  upon  the  lake  and  the  valley. 

"Will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  enter?"  said  Cottrell, 
with  a  hospitable  flourish  of  his  hand  ;  "  this  is  my  humble 
abode." 

The  room  was  bright  and  cheerful,  and  furnished  in 
rather  a  luxurious  style.  A  scent  of  cigars  pervaded  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  l8l 

atmosphere.  The  walls  were  covered  with  engravings 
and  sketches,  all  representing  nude  nymphs  and  goddesses, 
ancient  and  modern,  and  in  the  spaces  between  the  frames 
were  nailed  a  multitude  of  actresses  in  tights,  and  in  a  va- 
riety of  piquant  attitudes.  There  were  Ledas,  Galateas, 
Danae's,  Venuses  rising  from  the  foam  of  the  sea  ;  and 
Lydia  Thompsons,  Maude  Branscomes,  Mary  Andersons, 
and  other  histrionic  celebrities  without  number  rising 
from  nobody  knew  where.  Over  the  mantel-piece  hung 
a  large  framed  embroidered  motto  whose  legend  was  : 
"Coeducation  is  the  Thief  of  Time;  "and  between  the 
windows  was  seen  the  familiar  one,  "  God  will  Provide," 
in  embroidery,  to  which  was  added  in  ornamental  script, 
"  Cigars." 

Kate  was,  at  first,  shocked  at  the  young  man's  depravity, 
but  was  too  much  of  a  woman  of  the  world  to  betray  her 
displeasure.  For  all  that,  Cottrell  detected  an  air  of  con- 
straint in  her  face,  and  remarked,  apologetically  : 

"You  know  we  all  have  our  specialties,  otherwise  there 
wouldn't  be  any  fun  in  living.  My  specialty  is  girls ; 
Lovel's  there  is  postage  stamps." 

The  bashful  Lovel  blushed  to  his  ears  at  this  base 
slander,  but  failed  to  make  an  intelligible  rejoinder. 

"  Go  into  his  room  and  see,"  cried  Cottrell ;  "his  walls 
are  covered  with  envelopes  so  that  you  can't  see  an  inch 
of  the  woodwork." 

"  That's  not  for  the  stamps,"  the  blushing  youth  stam- 
mered ;  "  it  is  for  the  autographs." 

"  He  has  got  Gladstone  and  Bismarck  and  Grant  and 
the  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  no  end  of  big  guns,"  the  Cal- 
ifornian  declared,  leading  the  way  to  Level's  apartment. 

His  description  proved  correct ;  the  walls  were  literally 
hidden  up  to  the  very  ceiling  under  envelopes  bearing  the 
autographs  of  famous  persons.  From  the  sitting-room 
Kate  got  a  glimpse  through  the  open  door  of  the  bed- 
room, where  there  was  an  ash-tree  bureau,  with  mirror  of 
the  Eastlake  pattern,  to  the  frame  of  which  were  pinned 
about  a  dozen  photographs  of  the  same  young  girl  (and  a 
very  sweet  girl  it  was) ;  and  over  the  mantel-piece  there 
hung  a  delightfully  awkward  family  group,  with  the  father 
and  the  mother  in  their  best  finery  in  the  middle,  and  three 
sons  and  four  daughters,  some  with  their  hands  resting  at 
right  angles  upon  the  other's  shoulder,  some  with  their 
legs  crossed,  and  all  looking  as  glum  and  forlorn,  as  if  they 
had  lost  their  last  friend. 


1 82  THE  MAMMON 

While  Kate  was  reading  the  character  and  history  of  the 
young  man  in  his  environment  (and  though  she  was  not 
poetic,  she  did  not  fail  to  perceive  a  certain  touching  qual- 
ity in  it),  a  mellow  brass  gong  was  sounded,  and  Cottrell 
invited  her  with  much  ceremony  to  honor  the  society  with 
her  company  at  supper.  She  referred  the  question  to 
Horace,  who  declared  that  he  could  see  no  objection. 
They  accordingly  were  ushered  into  the  dining-room, 
which  was  adorned  with  colored  wood  engravings  repre- 
senting scenes  from  German  university  life,  such  as  the 
"  La,ndesvater,"  "  Fuchsritt,"  "  Giinsemarsch,"  etc.  There 
was  also  a  large  picture  of  a  man  who  was  eating  clam- 
chowder  with  ecstatic  enjoyment,  and  on  the  glass  was 
pasted  a  slip  of  paper  on  which  was  written  :  De  Profundis 
Clam-av-i,  which,  as  Cottrell  explained,  means,  being  in- 
terpreted, "  I  have  a  clam  out  of  the  depths." 

Kate  became,  in  the  course  of  the  supper,  so  interested 
in  these  twenty-two  young  men,  who  surrounded  the  two 
tables,  that  she  almost  forgot  to  eat.  She  liked  to  see  their 
envious  admiration  of  Cottrell's  audacity  in  entertaining 
her,  in  such  a  free  and  easy  way,  and  their  ineffectual  imi- 
tation of  his  loud  and  swaggering  California  manners.  It 
had  never  occurred  to  her  before  that  boys,  during  that 
amphibious  age  when  they  are  neither  children  nor  men, 
had  any  redeeming  qualities  whatever  ;  but  she  concluded 
now  that  there  is  no  age  which  has  not  its  charm.  To  be 
the  only  woman  in  such  an  assembly,  to  feel  their  shy 
worship  of  her  womanhood  —  das  ewig  Weibliche  —  was  a 
novel  and  delightful  experience.  She  had  never  felt  so 
motherly  in  all  her  life  before,  so  consciously  exalted  and 
superior,  so  tender  and  tolerant  of  masculine  absurdity 
and  folly.  Their  sudden  explosions  of  mirth,  their  tele- 
graphic communications  by  glances  and  grimaces,  and  the 
irrepressible  monkey  tricks  of  a  few  of  the  younger  ones, 
which  she  appeared  not  to  observe,  made  her  realize  the 
characteristics  of  the  genus  boy  as  never  before.  The 
quick  blush  which  sprang  to  the  cheeks  of  those  who 
found  courage  to  address  her  ;  their  anxiety  to  conceal 
their  embarrassment  from  their  comrades,  and  their  heroic 
feeling  when  they  had  acquitted  themselves  creditably, 
seemed  as  good  as  a  play.  Her  presence  was  an  event  to 
them  ;  roused  the  chivalrous  instinct  in  them,  and  incited 
them  to  helpless  demonstrations  of  gallantry  which  they 
lacked  courage  to  carry  out  in  quite  the  bold  style  in  which 
thev  were  conceived. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS,  183 

When  Kate  drove  down  the  hillside  with  Horace  Larkin, 
after  this  charming  adventure,  she  was  so  adorably  gen- 
tle, simple,  and  amiable,  that  even  his  cool  blood  was 
kindled  and  his  eyes  rested  upon  her  with  undisguised 
admiration.  A  sense  of  well-being  crept  over  him  ;  the 
world,  in  spite  of  its  imperfections,  seemed  more  nearly 
right  than  it  had  ever  seemed  before.  There  was  a  luxury 
in  living,  and  each  breath  seemed  fuller  and  warmer,  and 
came  from  deeper  down,  and  stung  the  blood  into  a  richer 
and  stronger  pulsation.  He  half  marvelled  to  himself 
that  his  conscience' troubled  him  so  little;  for  it  was  an 
unscrupulous  game  he  had  played  with  a  certain  tender 
and  fragile  heart  which  had  beat  unwaveringly  for  him  for 
many  years.  He  knew  that  this  ride  must  have  made 
Bella  miserable,  and  he  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  he 
was  sorry  for  her  ;  but  was,  in  the  end,  constrained  to 
admit  that  he  felt  heartlessly  and  outrageously  com- 
fortable. 

When  Horace  parted  from  Kate  at  the  gate  of  the  par- 
sonage, he  was  conscious  of  having  made  great  strides  in 
her  acquaintance,  perhaps  in  her  good-will.  He  was  too 
careful  a  man  to  draw  rash  conclusions  ;  for  he  had  an 
overpowering  sense  of  the  millions  which  Kate  represented, 
and  of  the  dignity  they  conferred  upon  their  prospective 
possessor.  But  this  fact  did  not  in  the  least  lessen  his 
sense  of  his  own  worth.  If  he  should,  upon  mature  de- 
liberation, conclude  to  marry  Kate  Van  Schaak,  he  would 
set  about  it  rationally ;  and  there  was  nothing  which 
seemed  beyond  his  power  to  achieve  if  he  concentrated 
his  mind  upon  it.  He  was,  however,  by  no  means  sure 
that  he  wished  to  marry  Kate  ;  she  belonged  to  another 
world  than  his,  and  might  not  adapt  herself  with  readiness 
to  the  conditions  which  to  him  were  natural  and  satisfac- 
tory. The  question  was  certainly  debatable,  and  he  de- 
termined to  debate  it  exhaustively. 

That  night,  when  Kate  Van  Schaak  had  disrobed  her  lith</ 
virginal  form,  and  the  light  mists  of  slumber  were  gather-- 
ing about  her  neat  and  compact  brain,  gentle  strains  ol 
melody  stole  up  to  her  window  and  mingled  with  her 
dreams.  She  dreamed  that  she  was  being  borne  by  twelve 
strong  eagles  over  the  tops  of  the  sun-gilded  forests,  and 
that  suddenly  the  eagles  burst  into  song — the  most  bliss- 
ful and  ecstatic  song  that  had  ever  rung  in  her  ears.  But 
gradually,  as  they  sang  they  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer,  and 
melted  away  in  shreds  of  golden  vapor,  while  the  song, 


1 84  THE  MAMMON 

draining  their  life  and  substance,  grew  stronger  and  at 
last  filled  the  wide  space  round  about.  She  awoke,  and 
sitting  up  in  bed,  listened  intently.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  it.  Somebody  was  singing  ;  and  not  one,  but 
many.  She  heard  distinctly  a  tenor,  trembling  on  the 
high  G,  calling  her  darling,  imploring  her  in  one  moment 
to  awake,  and  in  the  next  to  slumber  sweetly  ;  and  a  sub- 
dued chorus  of  baritone  and  bass  voices  were  expressing 
their  approval  of  his  sentiments  and  joining  in  his  demands. 
She  had  to  rub  her  eyes  repeatedly  before  the  situation 
became  clear  to  her  ;  for  she  had  never  been  serenaded 
in  her  life,  and  was  not  aware  that  that  mediaeval  cus- 
tom had  survived  in  university  towns  into  the  present 
century.  But  when  the  sentimental  quartet  ceased  and 
the  midnight  air  was  startled  by  the  abrupt  and  irrelevant 
query  : 

"  Said  the  bullfrog  to  the  owl  : 
Oh,  what'll  you  have  to  drink?" 

she  knew  that  her  serenaders  were  the  members  of  the 
Greek  Letter  society  who  had  entertained  her  during  the 
afternoon.  The  reply  of  the  owl : 

"  Oh,  since  you  are  so  very  kind 
I'll  take  a  bottle  of  ink," 

struck  her  as  being  so  delightfully  comical  that  she  burst 
out  laughing  and  jumped  out  of  bed.  She  did  not  know 
what  the  etiquette  of  the  occasion  required  her  to  do  ;  but 
after  a  moment's  hesitation  she  flung  a  dainty  blue  cash- 
mere wrapper  about  her,  opened  the  window,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  listening.  Then  she  seized  a  bouquet  of 
roses  which  stood  in  a  vase  on  the  mantel-piece,  smelled 
it,  and  tossed  it  down  to  the  singers.  "  I  thank  you,  gen- 
tlemen," she  said,  and  closed  the  window. 

But  underneath  there  was  a  tremendous  scramble  for 
the  possession  of  the  roses. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  185 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    ALMIGHTY   DOLLAR. 

It  had  been  perceived  by  several  members  of  the  house 
of  Larkin  that  there  was  a  cloud  upon  the  family  horizon. 
The  Hon.  Obed,  who  was  not  usually  subject  to  the  blues, 
had,  since  the  visit  of  the  mysterious  woman  in  his  library, 
never  quite  recovered  his  spirits.  He  had  succeeded  be- 
yond expectation  in  keeping  the  secret  of  this  woman's 
claim  upon  him  ;  for  no  gossip  connected  with  her  visit  had 
found  currency  in  the  town.  But  the  mere  knowledge  that 
there  was  somebody  in  the  world  who,  if  she  would,  could 
injure  his  reputation,  troubled  him  and  made  him  nervous 
and  uneasy.  Of  course  he  had  done  nothing  of  which  he 
needed  to  be  ashamed  ;  nay,  he  had  acted  not  only  honor- 
ably but  even  generously.  But  for  all  that,  his  folly  in 
concealing  what  there  was  no  need  of  concealing  gave  an 
ugly  look  to  the  affair,  and  would  make  people  suspect 
that  there  was  something  under  it  which  would  not  bear 
the  light.  Few  would  believe  that  his  principal  motive 
for  keeping  his  first  marriage  secret  was  his  dread  of  los- 
ing the  affection  of  the  present  Mrs.  Larkin,  who  stood  on 
strictly  biblical  ground  as  regards  the  remarriage  of  one 
who  had  been  divorced.  He  had,  indeed,  sounded  her 
upon  the  subject  a  few  weeks  before  their  wedding,  and 
had  found  her  uncompromising.  That  his  first  wife,  as 
soon  as  she  had  used  up  the  money  he  had  given  her, 
would  make  a  second  descent  upon  him,  and  perhaps  in 
pure  wantonness  expose  him,  seemed  more  than  likely; 
and  the  probability  that  she  would  continue  these  tactics 
as  long  as  she  remained  above  ground,  destroyed  his  zest 
in  living  and  made  him  (as  a  mere  provisional  measure) 
inclined  to  prepare  for  the  end.  The  only  consoling  cir- 
cumstance, to  which  he  clung  with  tenacious  hope,  was 
the  prospect  that  her  vice  might,  when  indulged  without 
restraint,  soon  quench  her  baneful  and  unwholesome  ex- 
istence. He  surprised  himself  again  and  again,  praying 


1 86  THE  MAMMON 

that  this  might  soon  come  to  pass — wishing  with  a  venge- 
ful ardor  that  she  might  be  come  up  with  in  the  next 
world,  and  suffer  tenfold  (as  he  did  not  doubt  that  she 
would)  the  miseries  which  she  had  inflicted  upon  him. 
For  a  deacon  and  pillar  of  the  church,  these  were,  of  course, 
not  very  laudable  sentiments ;  and  Mr.  Larkin,  who  was  a 
stauncher  believer  than  his  pastor,  was  often  frightened 
at  the  rank  growth  of 'hate  and  wickedness  which  he  dis- 
covered in  the  depth  of  his  heart.  He  comforted  himself, 
however,  easily  with  the  thought  that,  as  men  go,  he  was, 
on  the  whole,  a  fairly  creditable  specimen  of  his  race,  and 
considerably  above  the  average  as  regards  moral  worth. 
If  God,  who  was  merciful  toward  the  errors  of  His  chil- 
dren, should  draw  the  line  so  as  to  exclude  him  from  His 
presence,  He  would  have  a  very  insignificant  remnant  left 
to  be  partakers  of  His  glory.  Mr.  Larkin  had  a  faint  sus- 
picion that  this  line  of  reasoning  was  not  strictly  Chris- 
tian ;  but  he  found  himself  pursuing  it,  half  automatically, 
whenever  he  looked  back  upon  his  life,  which,  if  it  had 
been  investigated  by  the  committee  presided  over  by  the 
Recording  Angel,  would  have  revealed  several  incidents 
which  could  only  be  made  to  look  well  by  the  most  un- 
blushing partisanship. 

It  was  while  this  mood  was  upon  him  that  Mr.  Larkin, 
one  day  early  in  June,  dropped  in  upon  Horace  at  the 
office  where  the  latter  was  seated,  tilted  back  in  his  chair 
with  his  heels  on  his  desk,  smoking  a  strong  cigar.  He 
did  not  change  his  attitude  as  his  uncle  entered,  but 
nodded  to  him  over  his  shoulder  and  begged  him  to  find 
himself  >a  seat.  The  old  man,  with  a  troubled  expression 
about  his  eyes  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  pulled  for- 
ward a  chunky,  black-painted  chair,  placed  his  feet  upon 
a  table  by  the  window,  and  began  thoughtfully  to  pick  his 
teeth  with  a  quill.  He  sat  long  in  silence,  letting  his  eyes 
wander  over  the  long  rows  of  law-books,  bound  in  calf, 
with  red  or  black  labels  for  the  titles,  and  no  sound  was 
heard  except  the  clicks  of  his  toothpick.  The  office  con- 
sisted of  an  outer  and  an  inner  room,  the  furniture  of 
which  was  old  and  rather  shabby.  There  was  a  small  iron 
safe  under  the  desk,  four  or  five  chairs,  a  couple  of  spit- 
toons filled  with  saw-dust,  and  a  table  covered  with  briefs 
tied  together  with  blue  and  red  ribbons. 

Having  exhausted  the  uses  of  the  toothpick,  Mr.  Larkin 
pulled  out  his  pocket  knife,  which  looked  old  enough  to  be 
an  heirloom,  and  began  to  clean  his  nails. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  187 

"Why  do  you  smoke  that  vile  weed  ?  "  he  asked,  address- 
ing himself  apparently  to  the  top  of  the  bookcase. 

"  It's  a  fifteen-center,"  Horace  replied,  "  but  if  it  is  dis- 
agreeable to  you,  I  will  throw  it  away." 

He  flung  the  half-smoked  cigar  into  the  spittoon,  rose, 
and  began  to  rummage  among  the  papers  in  an  open 
drawer. 

"Will  you  be  alone  for  about  an  hour?  "  Mr.  Larkin  in- 
quired, listlessly. 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  it ;  I  can  give  orders  to  Lawson  that 
we  are  not  to  be  disturbed." 

"All  right." 

Horace  went  into  the  outer  office,  spoke  to  his  clerk,  and 
returned,  locking  the  door  after  him. 

There  was  another  pause  of  five  minutes,  during  which 
Mr.  Larkin  devoted  all  his  attention  to  a  troublesome  hang- 
nail. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  he  began,  staring  at  the  tips  of 
his  fingers,  "  that  I  shall  have  to  make  a  new  will.  I  tore 
up  the  old  one  this  morning." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  sir,"  Horace  observed,  carelessly  ; 
"it  is  never  good  policy  to  sleep  over  night  intestate  for  a 
man  who  has  as  complicated  interests  as  you  have." 

Mr.  Larkin  made  no  answer  to  this,  but  clinched  the 
hang-nail  close  to  the  root,  and  looked  much  relieved. 

"  I  want  you  to  note  down  on  a  piece  of  paper  the  be- 
quests and  other  items,"  he  said;  "then  write  the  thing 
out  in  due  legal  form,  and  I  will  wait  here  and  sign  it." 

"  Very  well.     I'm  ready." 

"  To  my  beloved  wife,  Mary  Louise  Larkin,  in  case  she 
survives  me,  the  income  of  $200,000,  the  capital  to  revert, 
at  her  death,  to  my  nephew,  Horace  Larkin  ;  to  my  wife, 
also,  the  house  with  fixings,  horses,  and  carriages  in  trust 
during  her  lifetime.  Have  you  got  that  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"To  my  beloved  daughter,  Gertrude  Larkin " 

Horace  glanced  up  from  his  paper  with  a  lively  in- 
terrogation in  his  face. 

"  Do  you  mean  daughter  or  adopted  daughter  ? "  he 
asked  ;  "you  know  you  make  yourself  liable  to  have  the 
will  contested,  if  either  name  or  relation  is  inaccurately 
stated." 

"I  mean  what  I  say,"  the  old  man  rejoined.  "To  my 
beloved  daughter,  Gertrude  Larkin — have  you  got  that  ?  " 

"Wait  a  minute.     Yes,  now  I've.got  it," 


1 88  THE  MAMMON 

"One  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  bonds  and 
stocks  of  Chicago  and  Northwestern,  New  York  Central 
and  Hudson  River,  and  stock  of  Torryville  National  Bank." 

Mr.  Larkin  here  pulled'  some  papers  from  his  breast 
pocket,  and  examined  them  carefully. 

"  My  nephew,  Horace  Larkin,  son  of  my  deceased 
brother  Ezekiel,"  he  went  on,  pausing  thoughtfully  at 
every  other  word,  "  I  make  the  trustee — of  the  property 
— to  be  held  in  trust — for  my  wife,  during  her  lifetime, 
and  to  revert  to  him  at  her  death." 

The  dreariness  of  his  expression  was  illuminated  by  a 
gleam  of  shrewd  scrutiny  as  he  uttered  these  words.  He 
knew  well  that  Horace  had  for  years  regarded  himself  as 
his  probable  heir,  and  had  planned  his  future  on  a  scale 
befitting  the  possessor  of  millions.  He  was  curious  now 
to  see  how  he  bore  the  shock  of  his  disappointment. 
Scratch — scratch — scratch — went  the  quill,  as  steadily  as 
ever  ;  and  the  coarse,  somewhat  tumbled  hair,  with  the 
stiff  bristly  tuft  that  always  grew  straight  up  from  his 
crown,  looked  irritatingly  stubborn  and  unconcerned. 
Mr.  Larkin,  who  was  just  the  man  to  appreciate  such 
stoicism,  began  almost  to  waver  in  his  resolution  ;  he  felt  an 
admiration  for  this  masterful,  but  self-restrained  nephew, 
which  he  would  have  liked  to  express,  if  he  had  not 
feared  to  confuse  again  his  carefully  matured  plans. 

"  Horace,"  he  said,  "  would  you  care  to  know  why  I  have 
left  things  that  way  ?" 

"I  should  not  presume  to  ask  you,  sir  ;  I  don't  question 
your  right  to  do  with  yours  as  you  see  fit." 

"  I  know  that.  But  you  had  expected  that  I  would  treat 
you  more  handsomely,  I  reckon." 

"  Perhaps  I  had,  sir.  But  it's  all  right.  You  need  have 
no  fear  of  my  making  a  row  about  it." 

"  No  ;  and  that  reminds  me  that  I  want  you  to  put  in  a 
clause,  declaring  that  if  any  of  my  heirs  or  legatees  con- 
test my  will,  he  or  she  shall  forfeit  all  benefit  accruing  to 
him  or  her  under  that  instrument." 

"  All  right.     I  think  that's  quite  proper." 

The  old  man  pulled  the  stump  of  a  lead  pencil  from  his 
vest  pocket  and  began  to  figure  on  the  back  of  an  envelope. 
"  Horace,"  he  said^ while  yet  absorbed  in  his  figures,  "you 
may  scarcely  believe  it ;  but — but — it  is  for  your  own  good 
that  I  intend  to  leave  you  no  money — until  you  are  so  rich 
that  two  hundred  thousand  more  or  less  will  make  no 
difference  to  vou." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  189 

"  That  time  may  never  come,"  said  Horace,  plunging  his 
hands  into  his  pockets,  and  rattling  with  his  keys  and 
small  change. 

"  Stuff.  I  know  a  man  when  I  see  him.  You  will  go  to 
Congress  ;  you'll  rise  high  in  public  life.  I  won't  say 
you'll  become  President,  because  that  is  more  or  less  of  a 
lottery.  If  I  gave  you  half  a  million  dollars  outright,  as  I 
once  thought  of  doing,  I  should  be  taking  away  from  you 
the  chief  incentive  to  ambition.  I  should  be  compelling  you 
to  waste  your  life  taking  care  of  your  money,  when  you 
might  be  doing  something  better.  I  tell  you,  the  fun  that's 
to  be  had  out  of  money  is  in  getting  it,  not  in  spending  it. 
A  million  is  a  hard  task  master.  Imean  to  leave  you  your 
own  master.  I  began  as  a  poor  boy  myself,  with  two  empty 
hands  ;  and  I  never  should  have  been  the  man  I  am,  if  I 
had  started  at  the  top.  I  believe  it  is  a  calamity  to  a  man 
of  your  ability  to  commence  his  career  with  his  pockets 
full  of  money." 

"  To  be  consistent,  then,  you  ought  to  leave  your  money 
to  an  enemy,"  Horace  observed,  after  a  pause. 

"No,"  Mr.  Larkin  answered,  "I  intend  to  leave  it  to  my 
University.  There  it  will  do  good.  You  may  put  down 
one  million  dollars  to  the  general  endowment  fund  of  the 
Larkin  University.  The  residue  of  the  estate,  after  all 
bequests  have  been  paid,  is  to  be  applied  to  the  purchase  of 
machinery  for  the  department  of  mechanical  engineering." 

Mr.  Larkin  enumerated  a  dozen  other  bequests  to  chari- 
table institutions  in  various  parts  of  the  State  ;  $50,000  to 
the  Hampton  College  for  the  higher  education  of  colored 
people,  and  $20,000  to  the  Carlisle  School  for  Indians. 
Altogether  he  disposed  of  something  over  two  million 
dollars.  He  named  Horace  Larkin  and  William  Dallas 
executors  of  his  will,  with  an  annual  salary  of  $4,000  for 
two  years. 

Horace  seated  himself  again  at  his  desk,  and  in  the  course 
of  an  hour  had  composed  a  document  in  legal  form,  satis- 
factory to  the  testator.  He  read  it  aloud,  made  a  few 
changes  of  expression  at  Mr.  Larkin's  suggestion,  seized 
the  pen  to  dot  an  i  or  cross  at,  and  finally  attached  the  seal. 
He  called  his  clerk  Lawson  in  to  witness  the  signature, 
but  begged  him  to  wait  until  two  other  witnesses  could 
be  procured  ;  for,  as  some  of  the  property  was  situated  in 
Western  States,  where  the  law  requires  three  witnesses,  it 
was  thought  best  to  run  no  risks.  Horace  himself  stepped 
across  the  street  to  the  Post-office,  and  returned  in  a 


THE  MAMMON 

moment  with  the  postmaster.  Mr.  Gleason,  the  druggist, 
who  was  also  a  discreet  man,  was  unhappily  not  in  ;  but 
was  expected  every  minute.  He  therefore  left  word  with 
the  prescription  clerk  to  send  him  over  as  soon  as  he 
arrived.  But  as  he  re-entered  his  office,  he  found  Dr. 
Hawk  seated  there,  conversing  with  his  uncle. 

"  I  came  here  on  a  little  private  business,"  the  doctor 
explained.  "  I  want  to  know  if  you'll  collect  a  bill  of  $56 
for  me." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Horace  answered;  "  small  favors  thankfully 
received." 

"  You  needn't  do  it,  you  know,  if  you  don't  want  to," 
cried  Hawk,  a  trifle  huffed. 

"  I  know  that.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  anything, 
unless  I  want  to." 

They  talked  on  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Horace  agreed  to 
collect  the  claim.  Mr.  Gleason,  in  the  meanwhile,  did  not 
arrive,  and  the  postmaster  was  getting  uneasy. 

"  Well,  there  is  no  use  waiting  for  him,"  Mr.  Larkin 
observed,  rubbing  his  bristly  cheeks  with  his  hand  ;  "  here 
is  the  doctor  ;  he'll  do  just  as  well." 

Horace,  from  behind  the  doctor's  back,  sent  his  uncle  a 
warning  glance  ;  but  the  old  gentleman  failed  to  perceive 
its  meaning,  and  continued  : 

"  I  have  been  making  out  a  document  of  some  little  con- 
sequence, gentlemen  ;  in  fact,  it  is  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment, and  I  want  you  to  witness  my  signature." 

He  moved  toward  the  desk,  took  the  will  out  of  the 
drawer  where  it  had  been  temporarily  concealed,  seized  a 
pen  which  he  tried  on  the  back  of  an  envelope,  and  wrote 
slowly  and  carefully, 

OBED  LARKIN. 

The  postmaster  executed  with  due  solemnity  an  awk- 
ward and  rickety  signature  in  the  place  which  Horace  in- 
dicated ;  and  the  clerk,  Lawson,  made  some  flowing  and 
ornamental  flourishes  in  the  style  of  Gaskell's  Compen- 
dium. When  the  doctor's  turn  came,  he  found  difficulty 
in  getting  properly  seated  ;  pulled  the  leather  cushion  of 
the  chair  first  one  way  and  then  another  ;  and  finally  asked 
Horace  if  lie  didn't  have  a  stub  pen,  as  he  could  not  write 
with  any  other  kind.  By  the  time  all  his  preparations 
were  finished,  Dr.  Hawk  had  managed  to  glean  nearly 
the  entire  contents  of  the  will,  The  words  "  To  my  be- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  191 

loved  daughter  Gertrude  Larkin,  I  give  and  bequeath  the 
sum  of  $150,000  "  burned  themselves  into  his  memory,  and 
followed  him  about,  after  he  had  risen,  like  a  writing  of 
flame.  Gertrude,  Mr.  Larkin's  daughter  !  Well,  if  he  had 
known  that  before,  much  would  have  been  different.  He 
had  been  excessively  stupid  not  to  have  suspected  it.  But 
that  venerable  old  gentleman,  that  pillar  of  the  church, 
who  would  have  thought  that  he  had  skeletons  in  his 
closet  ?  The  doctor  left  the  office  of  Larkin  Brothers  in  a 
state  of  excitement  which  he  had  not  experienced  since 
the  day  he  saw  the  strange  woman  with  Gertrude  in  the 
Drum  Head  Ravine.  He  began  to  put  two  and  two  to- 
gether, and  soon  he  had  in  his  mind  the  material  for  a  full- 
fledged  romance. 

"It  wasn't  very  smart  of  you,  uncle,"  said  Horace,  as  he 
handed  Mr.  Larkin  the  fateful  document,  "to  have  that 
loon,  Hawk,  as  witness  of  signature.  Didn't  you  see  me 
scowl  at  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  no.     What's  the  matter  with  Hawk  ?  " 
"  Well,  he's  a  sort  of  fancy  chap.     Too  many  frills  to  be 
honest.     I  wouldn't  trust  him  with  a  dollar,  except  on  first- 
class  security," 


192  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   DELICATE   SITUATION. 

A  man  cannot  add  a  cubit  to  his  height,  the  Bible  says, 
however  much  he  taketh  thought  thereof  ;  but  it  seems 
sometimes  as  if  he  could  take  a  cubit  off.  Horace  Larkin 
felt  himself  distinctly  a  smaller  man,  when  he  walked 
home  from  the  office  after  having  executed  his  uncle's 
will.  It  was  as  if  he  had  been  reduced  from  six  to  five  feet 
three.  He  had  never  realized  before  what  an  important 
aid  to  his  self-esteem  the  prospect  of  that  million  was.  He 
could  not  deny  that  he  was  grievously  disappointed,  but 
he  was  yet  fair-minded  enough  to  credit  the  old  man  with 
the  motive  which  he  professed.  He  was  not  at  all  angry 
with  him.  If  there  was  anybody  with  whom  he  was  out  of 
patience,  it  was  that  omnivorous  young  monster,  the  Uni- 
versity, which  could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  million  it 
had  already  gobbled  up,  but  must  needs  devour  the  re- 
maining one  too. 

Horace  Larkin  walked  about  for  three  days  in  a  state  of 
intense  preoccupation,  pondering  this  question  in  all  its 
possible  bearings.  There  was  one  phase  of  it  which  had 
presented  itself  to  him  at  the  first  moment,  but  which  he 
lacked  courage  to  contemplate  clearly.  Was  his  first  duty 
toward  himself  or  toward  Bella?  Would  it  kill  Bella  if  he 
broke  with  her  ?  Was  not  her  violent  affection  for  him 
rather  a  pathological  than  a  psychological  phenomenon  ? 
Was  it  not  a  direct  result  of  her  hysterical  condition — an 
attendant  symptom  of  poor  nerves  ?  With  no  money,  and 
a  penniless  wife,  without  distinction  of  any  kind  (unless 
her  love  for  him  might  be  counted  a  distinction),  what  fate 
could  he  rationally  look  forward  to  ?  Ten  or  twenty 
squalid  years  of  toil,  slow  and  gradual  rise,  politically  ; 
many  setbacks,  no  doubt,  and  perhaps  in  the  end  a  cheap, 
moderate  success,  or  perhaps  even  failure.  He  had  never 
been  aware  before  how  inextricably  that  million  had  been 
interwoven  with  all  his  plans  for  the  future,  and  entered 
into  the  very  foundation  of  the  daring  tower  of  fortune 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  193 

which  in  his  dreams  he  had  erected.  Then  (shall  I  confess 
it  ?)  there  was  one  humiliating  little  suspicion  which  had 
recently  insinuated  itself  into  his  mind,  and  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  get  rid  of.  He  was,  after  all,  a  mere  village 
character,  and  had  never  measured  himself  with  strong  and 
brilliant  men  on  the  great  arena  of  life.  Kate  Van  Schaak 
had  come  to  him  as  a  messenger  from  that  greater  world 
with  which  he  was  wholly  unacquainted,  and  had  made 
him  in  a  dim  way  feel  his  limitations.  She  had  raised  his 
standard  of  womanhood,  and  had  made,  him  regret  his 
choice  by  casting  his  fiancee  cruelly  into  the  shade.  For 
an  ambitious  and  proud  man  to  have  this  conviction,  that 
the  companion  of  his  life  was  "a  little  below  par" — would, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  fine  society  which  he  would  one  day 
enter,  cast  discredit  upon  him  instead  of  adding  to  his 
lustre — was  a  haunting  torture,  heavy  and  hopeless  like 
a  nightmare.  Then  again,  to  imagine  himself  inarching 
down  the  long  radiant  years  by  the  side  of  the  stately 
and  gracious  Kate,  commanding  homage,  looking  down 
amiably  upon  the  multitude,  feeling  the  distinction  of 
wealth  and  fame  and  power  in  every  fibre — that  was  a 
vision  that  drew  his  eyes  and  his  whole  soul  with  irresist- 
ible fascination.  There  was  no  help  for  it — succeed  he 
must  ;  and  money  was  essential  to  success.  Life  would  be 
a  burden  to  him  without  success,  as  with  a  mean  success  ; 
he  could  afford  to  take  no  risks.  He  would  break  with 
Bella,  and  he  would  bend  all  his  energies  to  marrying 
Kate. 

He  had  at  first  a  forlorn  hope  that  Bella  might  possibly 
be  induced  to  give  him  his  conge'.  He  had  conspicuously 
neglected  her  while  Kate  had  visited  at  the  parsonage, 
and  expected  to  be  taken  to  task  for  his  unlover-like  con- 
duct. But  Bella,  conscious  of  the  worth  of  the  prize  she 
had  secured,  refused  to  risk  its  loss  by  too  great  exaction 
on  her  part.  She  chose  the  safer  course  to  confide  in 
Kate  and  trust  to  her  honor.  She  had,  indeed,  promised 
Horace  to  keep  their  engagement  secret  until  he  consented 
to  her  making  it  public.  But  in  the  first  place  it  was  more 
than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear  to  conceal  the  distinction 
which  such  a  relation  conferred  upon  her  in  the  eyes  of 
the  town  ;  and  secondly,  publicity  gave  an  added  sense  of 
security  which  was  not  to  be  despised  in  the  case  of  a 
cool  and  slippery  lover.  It- was  the  day  before  Kate's  re- 
turn to  New  York  that  Bella  took  this  great  resolution  ; 
for,  she  reasoned,  a  girl  like  Kate  would  be  no  less  for- 

13 


THE  MAMMON' 

midable  a  rival  in  New  York  than  in  Torryville.  Distance 
would  not  destroy  the  enchantment  of  her  millions,  and 
the  trail  of  luminous  memories  she  left  behind  her  would 
not  soon  lose  its  lustre. 

With  her  heart  in  her  throat  Bella  knocked  at  the  door 
of  her  brilliant  cousin,  who  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  directing  Tillie,  one  of  the  Rodents,  who,  with  an 
air  of  flattered  importance  was  folding  up  a  gorgeous  dress 
which  was  spread  out  upon  the  bed.  Bella,  excusing  her 
intrusion,  asked  if  she  could  not  help  her  pack. 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  Kate  replied,  "Tillie  is  doing  quite 
well.  Now,  put  that  bonnet  in  the  box,  Tillie,  and  put  it 
into  the  lid  of  the  trunk." 

Tillie  grinned  with  pleasure.  She  had  never  felt  so 
highly  honored  in  all  her  life.  And  to  be  preferred  to  her 
favored  sister — that  was  a  joy  which  made  her  almost  dizzy. 
Her  brown,  alert  eyes  flew  about  the  room  like  those  of  a 
jubilant  mouse  ;  and  she  cast  demurely  triumphant 
glances  over  at  her  sister,  who  had  wearily  seated  herself 
at  the  window.  The  excitement  of  the  last  weeks  had 
visibly  told  on  Bella's  health,  which  had,  indeed,  always 
been  delicate.  The  rings  about  her  eyes  were  darker  than 
usual,  and  that  gray  undertone  in  her  complexion,  which 
never  was  visible  except  when  she  was  distressed,  spoiled 
the  beauty  of  her  clear  and  well-cut  features.  Curious 
little  tremors  and  twitchings  appeared  about  her  eyelids 
and  lips,  and  she  tapped  her  little  slippered  foot  against 
the  floor,  being  utterly  unable  to  sit  still. 

When,  at  last,  the  trunk  was  packed  and  Tillie  could  find 
no  further  excuse  for  lingering,  the  confidential  mood  had 
left  her,  and  she  would  rather  have  cried  for  sheer  nervous- 
ness and  vexation.  Kate,  who  was  in  radiant  humor, 
walked  about  from  the  bureau  to  the  bed  and  from  the 
bed  to  the  trunk,  humming  the  air  "  Landlord,  fill  the 
flowing  bowl,"  and  it  seemed  impossible  to  open  a  serious 
conversation  to  such  an  accompaniment.  And  yet,  Bella 
could  not  let  the  opportunity  slip  by  ;  it  might  never 
return. 

"Cousin  Kate, "she  began  at  last,  tremulously,  "I  am 
so  sorry  you  are  going." 

That  was  not,  perhaps,  strictly  true,  but  it  was  one  of 
those  white  lies  which  custom  has  stamped  with  its  ap- 
proval. 

"  Well,  dear,  I  am  sorry  too,"  Kate  hummed  to  the  bac- 
chanalian air. 


OF  UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  195 

"  I  wonder  if  this  weather  is  going  to  continue,"  observed 
Bella,  after  a  pause,  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  It  is  usually  best  when  it  does  not  continue,"  answered 
Kate,  facetiously. 

"  I  don't  see  what  I  shall  do  when  you  are  gone,  Kate  ; 
I  shall  simply  die." 

She  lied  now  from  sheer  vacuity  ;  only  to  fill  up  the 
pauses,  and  by  some  circuitous  route  to  lead  up  to  the  all- 
important  topic. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  dear  ;  but  I  am  heart- 
less enough  to  think  that  we  shall  both  survive  it,"  Kate 
replied,  with  smiling  equanimity.  "You  know,  we  belong 
to  a  long-lived  family." 

There  was  just  the  needed  note  in  that  reply — a  little 
caressing  touch,  as  it  were — for  which  Bella  had  waited. 
She  could  not  walk  into  Kate's  room  and  fling  her  tender 
secret  down  before  her  as  a  clerk  tosses  a  piece  of  goods 
on  a  counter  for  the  inspection  of  a  customer.  No,  she 
had  to  have  a  bit  of  a  melodious  prelude,  through  which 
she  could  glide  naturally  into  the  grand  and  soul-stirring 
theme. 

"  Kate,"  she  said,  with  burning  cheeks  and  throbbing 
temples,  "  you  have  been  so  sweet  to  me  that  I  can't  bear 
to  have  you  go  away  without  telling  you  something — 
which — which " 

"Well,  which  what!"  cried  Kate,  not  unsympatheti- 
cally. 

The  tears  trembled  in  Bella's  eyes.     She  could  not  go  on. 

"  Well,  dear,  you  are  going  to  be  married,  isn't  that  it  ?" 
queried  her  cousin,  fixing  her  bright  brown  eyes  upon  her 
with  a  smile  which  seemed  a  little  strained. 

"Yes,"  Bella  faltered,  making  a  gigantic  effort  to  sup- 
press her  tears.  "  Will  you  come  to  my  wedding,  Kate  ? 
You  know  it's  not  to  be  this  year,  but  probably  next." 

She  felt  immensely  relieved  that  Kate  took  it  so  coolly  ; 
and  her  quiet,  superior  smile  made  her  positively  grateful. 
She  had  done  her  cruel  injustice  in  her  thought,  and  was 
longing  to  do  penance. 

"  But  before  I  congratulate  you,"  Kate  observed,  putting 
a  couple  of  ivory-handled  brushes  into  their  places  in  the 
silver  toilet-case,  "  you  must  tell  me  who  it  is.  It  must 
be  somebody  who  has  my  approval.  Otherwise,  I  shan't 
come  to  the  wedding." 

"Who  it  is  ?  Why,  don't  you  know  that  ?"  cried  Bella, 
in  a  sort  of  wild  falsetto  ;  "  can't  y^ou  guess  ?" 


196  THE   MAMMON 

"Why,  no,  I  haven't  an  idea." 

Miss  Van  Schaak  had  a  very  distinct  idea  ;  but  for  some 
occult  reason  she  chose  to  appear  obtuse.  She  was  dim- 
ly displeased  that  Horace  Larkin  had  gone  and  thrown 
himself  away  on  so  insignificant  a  little  body  as  her  cousin; 
and  she  was  not  going  to  make  it  easy  for  the  latter  to  di- 
vulge that  unpleasant  fact.  She  had  no  notion  that  she 
wished  Horace  for  herself  ;  nay,  she  thought  the 
probabilities  were  that,  do  what  he  might,  he  could  never 
win  her  ;  but  for  all  that,  she  disliked  having  him  lower 
himself  in  her  estimation,  and  that  was  what  he  had  done 
in  accepting  the  sordid  commonplace  lot  of  a  village  law- 
yer, married  to  a  poor  little  hysterical  village  belle.  The 
"  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star  "  was,  to  her  mind,  a  laud- 
able desire,  even  though  it  did  the  star  no  good  and  di- 
verted the  moth  from  his  proper  sphere  of  usefulness. 
But  the  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  moth  she  regarded  with 
unutterable  scorn. 

Bella  had  risen  to  her  feet.  She  stood  in  her  loose  pink 
wrapper  with  a  lace  cascade,  supporting  herself  against 
the  back  of  a  chair. 

"Why,  dear  Kate,"  she  ejaculated,  with  her  anxious 
smile,  "you  surely  know  it  is  Horace  Larkin — who  else 
could  it  be?" 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  he's  very  nice,"  Kate  replied,  a  little 
listlessly  ;  "you  have  my  best  wishes,  dear." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  happy,  Kate.  You  can't  imagine  how  nappy 
I  am." 

And  to  demonstrate  how  happy  she  was,  she  flung  her- 
self upon  her  cousin's  neck  and  sobbed.  Kate,  though  she 
did  not  feel  extravagantly  sympathetic,  respected  herself 
too  much  to  be  unkind  ;  so  she  smoothed  the  girl's  hair, 
kissed  her  cheeks,  and  begged  her  to  compose  herself. 
But  Bella  had  been  too  long  pent  up  with  her  misery  to 
forego  now  the  luxurious  relief  of  tears.  She  wept  as  if  her 
heart  would  break  ;  wept  so  that  her  whole  frame  shook  ; 
and  then  suddenly  remembered  that,  if  she  kept  on,  she 
would  lose  control  of  herself  and  go  into  hysterics.  So, 
with  an  odd  abruptness  she  choked  down  the  last  sob,  re- 
leased Kate  from  her  embrace,  and  walked  blindly  to  the 
window,  where  she  stood  long  leaning  on  her  hand  against 
the  frame,  pressing  an  absurd  little  ball  of  a  handkerchief 
against  her  eyes,  and  heaving  now  and  then  a  shivering 
sigh. 

Kate  presently  selected  from  her  homoeopathic  medicine 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

case  a  bottle  with  the  proper  number,  took  from  it  two 
pellets,  which  she  put  into  a  glass  of  water  and  forced 
Bella  to  drink.  Whether  among  the  panaceas  of  that  con- 
venient system  there  is  one  for  disappointment  in  love  or  a 
broken  heart,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  Kate,  who  had  great  con- 
fidence in  her  pellets,  felt  sure  that  they  would  go  to  the 
right  spot  and  effect  a  cure.  She  had  a  pleasant  sense  of 
having  done  her  duty  when  this  task  was  accomplished. 
There  was  a  quiet  satisfaction  in  her  handsome  and  intel- 
ligent face,  which  was  like  an  advertisement  of  a  good 
conscience.  It  was,  perhaps,  by  way  of  further  indul- 
gence to  this  good  conscience  that  she  sprayed  Bella  with 
a  very  expensive  cologne,  of  rare  virtue,  and  cajoled  her 
into  a  rocking-chair,  where  she  had  to  submit  to  further 
amateur  doctoring  until,  in  sheer  self-defence,  she  declared 
that  she  felt  perfectly  well. 

"Well,"  said  Kate,  "  I  want  you  to  keep  this  phial.  It 
never  fails  to  relieve  a  nervous  headache  and  an  unstrung 
condition  generally." 

There  stood  on  the  bureau  a  small  battery  of  cut-glass 
bottles,  with  pink  and  blue  ribbons  about  their  necks,  con- 
taining the  most  marvellous  liquids  and  essences. 

Kate  took  up  one  after  the  other,  allowed  her  cousin  to 
smell  it,  and  initiated  her  into  its  uses.  And  Bella,  in 
spite  of  her  sorrow,  grew  more  and  more  interested,  and 
began  to  feel  an  affection  for  Kate  which  she  had  never 
felt  before.  Each  wonderful  bottle,  as  it  was  opened  and 
smelled,  increased  her  humility  and  her  admiration  for  her 
cousin.  Life  was  evidently  a  more  complicated  affair  than 
she,  in  her  innocence,  had  dreamed. 

And  so  the  tete-a-tete  which  began  with  love  ended  with 
perfumery. 


198  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    RAVINE   PARTY. 

While  Horace  Larkin  was  struggling  with  the  problem 
how  to  get  rid  of  his  fiancee  in  the  most  decent  and  unob- 
trusive manner,  Dr.  Hawk  was  endeavoring  to  reconquer 
the  affection  of  one  whom  he  had  alienated.  He  had  fre- 
quently been  on  the  point  of  proposing  to  Gertrude 
during  the  last  two  years,  and  would  probably,  by  this 
time,  have  settled  his  fate  one  way  or  another,  if  Kate 
Van  Schaak  had  not  appeared  on  the  scene.  The  doctor 
was  not  in  the  least  ashamed  of  himself  that  he,  like  so 
many  others,  had  gone  to  worship  the  strange  goddess  ; 
but  he  was  at  his  wit's  end  to  invent  a  plausible  lie  by 
which  this  dance  around  the  Golden  Calf  might  be  made 
to  appear  compatible  with  unswerving  loyalty  to  the  true 
and  only  idol  of  his  heart.  He  could  not,  of  course,  go 
and  tell  Gertie  the  unvarnished  truth,  that  he  had  for  two 
years  dawdled  with  the  idea  of  marrying  her,  but  had 
been  deterred  by  the  uncertainty  of  her  position  in  Mr. 
Larkin's  house  ;  that  recently  he  had  gotten  a  glimpse  of 
her  father's  will  (which  had  in  the  most  satisfactory  man- 
ner settled  all  his  doubts),  and  that  accordingly  he  was 
now  most  anxious  to  make  up  for  his  past  delinquencies 
and  lead  her  straight  to  the  altar.  The  only  lie  he  could 
think  of  had  a  stale  and  unprofitable  look,  and  he  scarcely 
knew  whether  Gertie  was  gullible  enough  to  be  caught  in 
so  simple  a  trap.  That  he  had  flung  himself  at  Kate's 
feet  in  a  fit  of  despair,  because  of  Gertrude's  cruelty  and 
wanton  rebuffs — well,  as  a  naked  bit  of  prose,  such  a 
statement  might  excite  derision  among  men,  but  when 
properly  acted  before  a  young  and  impressionable  woman 
it  might  easily  prove  effective.  Moreover,  he  had  Aleck's 
hostility  to  fall  back  upon  as  a  last  resort,  and  further  in 
the  background  complications  with  his  mythical  mortgagee, 
remorse  for  past  wickedness,  feeling  of  unworthiness,  and 
other  picturesque  sentiments  which  might  easily  be  dressed 
up  so  as  to  be  extremely  impressive.  Gertrude  had  been 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  199 

incautious  enough  to  betray  her  resentment  of  his  atten- 
tion to  the  great  heiress,  and  that  was  an  encouraging 
circumstance.  If  she  had  been  clever  enough  to  seem 
indifferent,  he  would  have  had  less  hope  of  success. 

There  was  a  fashion  in  Torryville,  originated,  it  was 
said,  by  Professor  Ramsdale,  which  had  of  late  become 
quite  popular.  In  England  people  are  invited,  in  the  early 
summer,  to  garden  and  lawn  parties,  where  they  drink  tea 
and  catch  cold  in  distinguished  company.  In  Torryville 
there  .were  no  lawns  of  any  consequence,  but  there  were 
ravines  that  rivalled  in  picturesqueness  those  of  the  Yel- 
lowstone. It  therefore  occurred  to  Professor  Ramsdale 
to  agitate  the  question  of  giving  ravine  parties.  The 
ladies  of  the  faculty  who  were  not  very  enterprising 
frowned  upon  the  proposal,  but  the  undaunted  professor 
started  off  one  fine  day  with  some  younger  tutors  and  half 
a  dozen  "co-eds,"  improvised  a  co-educational  boat-race, 
macfe  coffee  and  fried  fish  over  an  out-of-door  fire,  sent  up 
rockets  and  Roman  candles  which  looked  beautiful  against 
the  nocturnal  sky,  and  managed  to  have  such  a  delightful 
time, 5that  those  who  had  pronounced  ravine  parties  im- 
proper made  haste  to  explain  that  they  had  meant  some- 
thing entirely  different,  and  would  be  charmed  to  accept 
the  next  invitation. 

One  afternoon  during  Commencement  week,  Gertrude 
and  Dr.  Hawk  found  themselves,  by  some  chance,  tcte-a- 
tete  on  a  floating  pier  down  on  the  Nile,  and  presently  dis- 
covered that  they  were  there  for  the  same  purpose.  The 
rest  of  the  party,  consisting  of  Ramsdale,  Tutor  Rodney 
(a  slim,  bashful,  but  competent- looking  man),  Pussy 
Dallas,  and  a  dozen  others,  mostly  co-educational  damsels, 
soon  arrived,  carrying  wraps  and  luncheon  baskets,  and 
were  packed  into  four  boats  which  were  pushed  out,  as 
soon  as  they  were  loaded,  from  the  insecure  pier.  The 
day  was  warm  and  clear,  and  the  sky  dazzlingly  blue.  The 
young  wheat,  with  its  fruitful  ears  yet  folded  in  glistening 
sheaths,  grew  in  long,  bright-green  belts  down  the  slopes 
toward  the  water,  and  made  the  darker  green  of  the 
meadows,  with  its  brownish  undertone,  look  shabby  by 
comparison.  Here  and  there  a  square  patch  of  buckwheat 
relieved  with  its  white  bloom  the  monotony  of  green  ;  and 
shingled  and  slate-covered  roofs,  with  their  whitewashed 
chimneys,  peeped  forth  among  the  scant  foliage  of  apple 
and  cherry  orchards.  But  the  maples  and  chestnuts  reared 
their  abundant  crowns  against  the  sky,  and  flung  their 


200  THE  MAMMON 

grateful  shade  over  the  farm-houses,  whose  small  windows 
and  white-painted  walls  gleamed  with  a  snug  and  sheltered 
contentment  among  the  gray  colonnades  of  their  trunks. 

Gertrude  and  the  doctor  had  not  much  to  say  to  each 
other,  as  they  stood  there  on  the  pier  waiting  for  the  com- 
pany to  get  ready.  For,  without  any  agency  of  their  own, 
they  had  been  assigned  to  the  same  boat.  Ramsdale  and 
Rodney,  in  white  flannel  shirts  and  knickerbockers,  were 
working  like  beavers  getting  the  dories  afloat ;  while  Hawk, 
in  a  new  and  rather  modish  summer  suit,  stood  blandly 
looking  on,  offering  them  no  assistance.  They  had  just 
gotten  the  last  dory  safely  launched,  when  the  'Varsity 
Eight  appeared  on  their  pier,  carrying  their  light  paper 
boat,  which  with  the  utmost  care  they  deposited  upon  the 
stream.  They  were  dressed  in  red  and  white  skull-caps, 
sleeveless  jerseys,  and  tights.  The  muscles  on  their  arms 
and  legs  swelled  magnificently  under  the  sun-browned 
skin,  "  as  slopes  a  brook  over  a  little  stone,"  and  they 
walked  about  with  a  paradisaical  immodesty  which  brought 
back  the  golden  days  of  athletic  sports  in  ancient  Greece. 
It  was  a  beautiful  spectacle  to  see  them  all  seated 
motionless,  with  oars  uplifted,  in  the  frail  shell,  awaiting 
the  signal  of  "the  stroke,"  while  their  inverted  images 
trembled  under  them  with  the  ripples  on  the  stream.  And 
when  the  sharp  and  brief  command  sounded,  with  what 
splendid  precision  they  struck  the  water,  and  with  what 
arrowy  speed  they  shot  down  the  Nile  and  out  into  the  open 
lake.  The  girls  in  Ramsdale's  party  gave  them  a  cheer 
on  the  way  and  waved  their  handkerchiefs  after  them. 
But  within  a  few  minutes  they  looked  small  and  far  away, 
darting  through  sunshine  and  shadow,  and  the  captain's 
commands  which  re-echoed  from  the  shore  faded  with  a 
muffled  ring  in  the  distance. 

Gertrude  was  conscious  of  a  strong  repugnance  to  the 
doctor  when  he  seated  himself  at  her  side,  in  the  stern  of 
the  dory,  and  she  was  not  very  responsive  to  his  first  efforts 
to  re-establish  confidential  relations.  He  chose  to  appear 
somewhat  distracted  and  melancholy,  and  the  remarks  he 
made  all  bore  the  mark  of  some  hidden  and  mysterious 
distress.  He  could  not  speak  freely,  of  course,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  so  many,  but  he  managed  to  throw  out  some  vague 
hints  which  tormented  and  worried  her.  While  the  co-eds 
and  the  gentlemen  sang  college  songs,  whose  noisy  chorus 
drowned  all  other  sounds,  he  heaved  deep  sighs  and  mut- 
tered, "Life,  life,  life!"  with  a  heart-rending  intonation. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2OI 

"  Whom  did  you  get  all  this  off  on,  last  time  ?  "  Gertrude 
queried,  with  a  mocking  laugh  ;  but  for  all  that,  her  con- 
science was  uneasy  and  she  was  more  impressed  than  she 
chose  to  show. 

"  That  from  you,  Miss  Gertie  ?  That  from  you  ? "  sighed 
the  doctor,  as  if  his  injury  was  really  too  deep  for  words. 
"  Have  I  deserved  that  from  you  ?" 

u  That,  and  much  more  than  I  shall  ever  have  a  chance 
of  repaying,"  said  Gertrude,  heartlessly. 

"  Well,  life  is  a  hard  school.  It  hardens  one  to  bear 
things  which  it  would  seem  impossible  to  survive." 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  fear  of  your  not  surviving.  I  really  be- 
lieve you  grow  fat  on  love  affairs.  I  have  been  told  that 
you  make  love  to  every  woman  you  meet." 

"Alas,  alas  !  If  you  but  knew,"  he  whispered,  tragically, 
and  bowed  his  head  like  an  injured  creature  that  disdains 
to  ward  off  the  threatened  blow.^ 

But  just  at  that  moment  the  song  stopped,  and  Gertrude 
found  it  unsafe  to  pursue  the  subject  further.  It  was  quite 
a  relief  when  the  stalwart  Californian,  Cottrell,  who  was 
also  of  the  party,  engaged  her  in  conversation,  and  courted 
her  in  a  florid  and  masculinely  condescending  style  which 
was  quite  amusing.  It  was  half-past  three  or  four  o'clock 
when  they  arrived  at  their  destination.  A  fire  was  made 
at  the  entrance  to  the  ravine,  and  both  gentlemen  and 
ladies  engaged  in  a  search  for  fagots  and  dry  branches 
with  which  to  keep  it  alive.  The  gorge  was  wide,  almost 
flat  in  the  bottom,  and  covered  on  both  sides  with  an  irreg- 
ular growth  of  underbrush,  from  which  loomed  up  here 
and  there  a  great  storm-twisted  and  weather-beaten  pine, 
or  an  oak,  that,  losing  its  footing  in  the  shallow  soil,  had 
become  top-heavy  and  grew  almost  horizontally  out  from 
the  overhanging  cliffs.  A  stream,  which  fell  from  a 
height  of  two  hundred  feet  and  meandered  with  serpen- 
tine windings  through  the  underbrush,  had  shrunk  to  a 
mere  brook  under  the  warm  rays  of  the  June  sun  ;  and  the 
slate  quarry  at  the  upper  end  of  the  ravine,  which  depended 
upon  the  water-power  for  its  activity,  had  suspended  oper- 
ations until  the  autumn  rains  again  should  stimulate  the 
lagging  pulses  of  nature. 

The  co-educational  boat-race,  for  which  some  burlesque 
prizes  had  been  provided,  did  not  in  the  least  interest 
Hawk  ;  but  he  saw  in  it  a  chance  of  getting  rid  of  an  in- 
convenient rival  who,  with  youthful  insolence,  was  monop- 
olizing Gertrude,  and  ignoring  all  hints  that  his  presence 


2O2  THE  MAMMON1 

was  desired  elsewhere.  Accordingly  the  crafty  doctor 
suggested  to  Ramsdale  that  Cottrell  would  make  a  capital 
umpire,  and  the  unhappy  youth,  though  he  saw  through 
the  ruse,  could  find  no  excuse  for  declining. 

"  Miss  Gertie,"  began  the  doctor,  when  his  diplomacy 
had  triumphed,  "  I  have  been  wanting  to  ask  you  for  a 
long  time  why  you  treat  me  so  shabbily." 

"How  long?"  asked  Gertie  with  crushing  sarcasm. 
"What  a  capacious  heart  you  must  have,  Doctor,"  she 
added,  lightly.  "  I  wish  I  could  rival  your  beautiful  im- 
partiality." 

They  were  strolling  along  the  bank  of  the  brook,  where 
there  was  a  path,  now  broad  enough  for  two,  now  choked 
up  with  raspberry  brambles. 

"  I  knew  it  was  there  the  shoe  pinched,"  he  said,  with  a 
touch  of  irritability;  "but  it  seems  almost  too  silly  to 
merit  an  answer."  . 

"Then  you  mean  to  deny  that  you  ran  after  Kate  van 
Schaak  early  and  late." 

"Oh,  no  ;  why  should  I  deny  it  ?  But  I  supposed  you 
were  clever  enough  to  suspect  what  my  motive  was." 

"  Well,  I  am  not ;  unless  it  was  her  five  millions  ! " 

The  doctor  turned  his  head  with  a  weary  despair,  but, 
instead  of  answering,  fixed  his  large,  dark  eyes,  full  of 
mute  reproach,  upon  the  girl.  Then  a  slight  dimness 
obscured  his  sight,  and  he  started  up  the  path  with  long 
strides,  leaving  Gertrude  behind.  She  arrested  her  steps, 
in  a  tumult  of  feeling,  irresolute  whether  she  should  fol- 
low him  or  return  to  the  lake  shore.  But,  seeing  the  ob- 
jections to  the  one  course  as  well  as  the  other,  she  seated 
herself  upon  a  large  bowlder  under  a  dead  tree,  whose 
weather-bleached  limbs  traced  themselves  in  vivid  detail 
against  the  sky.  She  sat  there  for  a  good  while,  deter- 
mined to  be  angry,  but  feeling  her  wrath  insidiously  eb- 
bing away  ;  a  still,  small  voice  rose  out  of  the  depth  of  her 
heart,  defending  him  against  her  own  accusations.  She 
had  treated  him  shabbily  ;  there  was  no  denying  that. 
And  he  looked  so  miserable  when  she  spoke  harshly  to  him  ; 
and  those  great  sincere  eyes  of  his,  they  were  incapable 
of  hypocrisy.  She  was  so  eager  to  belittle  his  offence, 
and  to  find  excuses  for  it,  that  the  gravamen  of  her  charges 
finally  turned  against  herself,  and  the  more  she  reviewed 
her  own  conduct,  the  more  heartless  and  hideous  it  ap- 
peared. Where  could  she  find  another  man  so  chivalrous, 
so  delicately  considerate  of  her  feelings,  so  capable  of  deep 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

devotion  and  intellectual  companionship  as  the  doctor  ? 
If  he  had  really  devoted  himself  to  Kate,  out  of  pique- 
was  not  that  a  perfectly  natural  thing  to  do,  and  ought  not 
she,  who  was  the  cause  of  it,  to  be  the  last  to  resent  it? 

Gertrude  sat  for  a  long  while  pondering  these  perplex- 
ing questions,  and  was  gradually  arriving  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  was  she  who  had  sinned  against  the  doctor 
and  not  the  doctor  against  her.  The  brook  gurgled  its 
pleasant  music  in  her  ears,  and  the  crickets  filled  the  air 
with  a  perpetually  pulsating  chorus  of  sound.  Every  mo- 
ment was  charged  to  overflowing  with  whirring,  gurgling, 
chirping,  warbling  voices,  inextricably  blended  together, 
now  faint  and  tremulous,  now  throbbing  with  a  sudden  ac- 
cess of  strength  ;  vibrating  with  a  strange  intensity  through 
heart  and  brain,  encroaching  with  a  sweet,  wild  insistence 
upon  her  conscious  life,  and  drawing  her  back  into  the 
Nirvana  of  great  universal  nature.  Emotions,  whether 
joyous  or  sad,  become  half  impersonal  in  such  moments, 
and  lose  their  acutest  sting.  Down  in  the  golden-brown 
depths  of  the  pool  swift  shadows  darted  to  and  fro,  and  in 
the  cool  shade  of  the  bowlders  long-legged  water-bugs 
skipped  hither  and  thither,  and  a  glittering  fly  came  sail- 
ing down  the  current  and  got  caught  in  a  ball  of  foam, 
whence  there  was  no  escape. 

Some  may  contend  that  it  was  heartless  in  Gertrude  to 
get  interested  in  these  insignificant  phenomena,  when  the 
decision  of  her  own  fate  was  trembling  in  the  balance. 
But,  sensitive  as  she  was  to  every  impression,  she  conld 
not  ward  off  this  pagan  semi-absorption  in  Nature — this 
irresistible  sympathy  with  the  teeming,  abundant,  myriad- 
voiced  noon«-day  life  of  summer — the  strong,  eternally  de- 
stroying, eternally  creative  heart-beat  of  mother  earth. 

Gertrude  was  awakened  from  her  reverie  by  the  creak- 
ing of  branches  close  by,  and  glancing  up  saw  Hawk 
stand  before  her.  She  had  to  collect  her  thoughts  forcibly, 
before  the  situation  became  clear  to  her.  A  wild  look, 
like  that  of  a  startled  bird,  gleamed  in  her  eyes  as  they 
were  first  fixed  upon  the  doctor. 

"  I  suppose  you  didn't  expect  me  back,"  he  said,  taking 
off  his  straw  hat  and  wiping  its  inside  with  his  handker- 
chief. 

"  I  haven't  thought  anything  about  it,"  Gertrude  an- 
swered. 

She  had  no  intention  to  be  cruel  ;  nay,  had,  on  the  con- 
trary, resolved  to  be  conciliatory ;  but  the  thoughtless 


204  THE  MAMMON 

words  were  out  of  her  mouth  before  she  had  time  to  con- 
sider them.  The  doctor  began  to  scratch  the  ground  with 
his  stick,  tossed  back  his  picturesque  Hamlet-lock,  and 
heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Miss  Gertie,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  desperate  reck- 
lessness, "  I  suppose  I  ought  to  take  that  as  final  and 
call  it  quits.  I  wish  to  God  I  could." 

"  Why  can't  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

She  was  unkind  now  from  sheer  perversity,  and  won- 
dered vaguely  at  her  own  pitilessness.  She  knew,  in  a 
kind  of  impersonal  way,  that  she  loved  him  and  would 
like  to  encourage  him  ;  only  the  loving  mood  had  unac- 
countably departed,  and  she  could  not  bring  it  back  by  a 
mere  effort  of  will.  "And  you  pretend  then  that  you 
don't  know  that  I  love  you,"  he  continued,  bitterly  ;  "  that 
I  have  loved  you  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you  ?" 

"  How  could  I  tell,"  she  ejaculated,  "  when  you  didn't 
seem  to  know  it  yourself  ?  You  have  too  hospitable  a 
heart,  doctor,  you  love  too  many." 

She  spoke  lightly  ;  but  her  voice  was  unsteady,  and  she 
felt  a  dull  heartache,  which  gnawed  and  burrowed  among 
her  vitals.  She  was  disgusted  with  her  flippancy,  but 
scarcely  knew  how  to  abandon  the  tone  she  had  once  as- 
sumed. Then,  perhaps,  the  impulse  of  vanity  more  than 
anything  else  urged  her  to  persevere,  for  she  wished  in  a 
confused  way  not  to  be  too  easily  won.  The  doctor  de- 
served to  be  punished  for  the  pain  he  had  inflicted  upon 
her  ;  and  there  could  be  no  harm  in  making  him  suffer  a 
little  in  return  for  all  he  had  made  her  suffer. 

"I  suppose  then,  Miss  Gertie,  that  all  is  over  between 
you  and  me,"  he  muttered,  sadly  ;  "we  shall  have  to  part 
and  be  nothing  to  each  other." 

She  was  on  the  point  of  answering  that  she  was  not 
aware  that  they  had  ever  been  anything  to  each  other  ;  but 
instead  of  that  she  said,  softly  : 

"  That  depends  upon  you." 

He  looked  up  with  glad  surprise  and  drew  a  step 
nearer. 

"Then  you  will  listen  to  me  ?"  he  queried,  with  wary 
tenderness. 

"Yes." 

The  tremulous  insecurity  of  that  "yes"  emboldened 
him  ;  he  seated  himself  at  her  side  on  the  big  stone  and 
seized  her  hand.  His  touch  imparted  a  light  shock  to  her 
and  the  blood  surged  into  her  face. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2O$ 

"Gertie,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  beseeching  murmur,  "  why 
should  you  and  I  quarrel  ?  You  can't  make  me  believe 
that  you  don't  care  for  me.  A  love  so  strong  as  mine  for 
you  would  melt  a  heart  of  stone. 

"  I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee 
In  the  first  sweet  sleep  of  night, 
When  the  winds  are  breathing  low 
And  the  stars  are  shining  bright ; 
I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee, 
And  a  spirit  in  my  feet 
Has  led  me — who  knows  how  ? 
To  thy  chamber  window,  sweet !  " 

The  doctor  was  a  master  in  declamation  ;  he  breathed 
forth  Shelley's  exquisite  impassioned  lines  in  swooning 
sighs,  and  Gertie  had  never  listened  to  anything  so  won- 
drously  rich  and  alluring.  It  was  like  a  heavy  delicious 
odor,  the  inhalation  of  which  caused  a  sweet  oppression. 
He  repeated,  after  a  pause,  the  second  and  the  third  verse 
with  the  same  insinuating  ardor.  The  landscape  seemed 
to  grow  dim  and  more  richly  green  ;  a  strange  magic 
inundation  of  light  broke  across  it ;  her  heart  throbbed  in 
slow,  full  beats  which  almost  shook  her  frame.  She  felt 
his  arm  about  her  waist,  his  kiss  upon  her  lips — but  she 
made  no  resistance.  There  was  a  luxury  in  complete,  un- 
reasoning surrender  ;  there  was  a  glorious  flood-tide  of 
being — a  deeper  breath,  a  swifter  pulse,  and  dim  vistas  of 
unrevealed  bliss.  After  a  while,  she  became  conscious 
that  he  was  talking,  though  she  did  not  distinctly  hear 
what  he  said.  He  was  speaking  about  himself — he  always 
spoke  so  beautifully  about  himself — and  he  was  quoting 
more  poetry  ;  he  always  quoted  poetry  on  supreme  occa- 
sions. She  saw  his  deep  melancholy  eyes  light  up  with  an 
intense  animation ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  she  became  con- 
scious of  a  vague  alien  presence  which  roused  her  with  a 
pang,  and  an  uneasy  sense  of  guilt.  She  looked  up  and 
down  the  ravine,  but  saw  only  the  waving  of  the  tops  of 
the  underbrush  far  away,  and  heard  gay  voices  in  high 
keys,  and  shrill  laughter.  There  was  for  an  instant  a 
curious  unreality  in  the  scene,  and  she  half  expected  to 
see  it  dissolve  and  change  like  the  pageant  of  a  dream. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  had  seen  it  all,  to  the  minutest  leaf  and 
twig  and  tinge  of  light,  years  ago — in  some  previous  exis- 
tence perhaps — but  unmistakably  —  without  shadow  of 
doubt.  There  was  an  anxious  suspense  of  silence  in  the 
air?  and  through  this  silence  came,  like  an  accusing  voice, 


206  THE  MAMMON 

the  thought  of  that  other  girl — the  claimant,  the   mort- 
gagee whom  she   had   defrauded.     She  had,  after   all,  a 
prior  claim  ;  she  had  spent  her  all  in  educating  him  ;  in 
helping  him  to   reach   the  eminence    for  which   he  was 
destined.     She  shrank  from  him  with  outraged  modesty, 
as   she   imagined  how  often   he  must  have  sat  with  that 
other  one,  encircling  her  waist,  calling  her  sweet  names, 
protesting  his  gratitude  and  affection.     For  a  moment  she 
almost  loathed  him,  and  she  loathed  herself  too  ;  but  above 
|  all  she  loathed  that  unending  tiresome  repetition  of  the 
/  stale  incidents  of  love,  birth,  death  without  hope  of  re- 
|   spite,    through   all  the   dizzy  eternities.      A  paltry  little 
j   puppet,  with  eyes  and  nose  and  joints,  pulled  by  unseen 
wires,  bowing  and  kissing  and  loving  and  suffering  through 
four  or  five  hackneyed  acts  to  the   more  than  hackneyed 
1    end — that  was  a  woman's  lot,  and  man's,  for  that  matter, 
was  scarcely  a  whit  better. 

I  would  not  assert  that  the  feelings  that  agitated  Ger- 
trude's soul  were  as  distinctly  formulated  as  they  neces- 
sarily have  to  be  in  the  present  narrative.  But  they  were 
acutely  felt ;  and  prompted  impulsive  action.  She  leaped 
down  from  the  stone  upon  which  they  had  been  sitting, 
and  stood  with  flaming  cheeks  gazing  at  Hawk,  yet  scarcely 
seeing  him. 

"  But,"  she  cried,  with  a  queer  little  grating  in  her  voice, 
"  the  girl — the  girl — who  loved  you  ?  " 

The  doctor,  truth  to  tell,  had  actually  forgotten  the  girl 
who  had  loved  him.  He  might,  perhaps,  be  excused  for 
having  forgotten  what  had  no  existence.  He  had  not  de- 
liberately invented  this  romance  ;  but  he  had  allowed  it  to 
grow  and  take  shape  about  him,  and  he  had  encouraged  it 
by  mysterious  hints,  and  sighs,  and  guarded  admissions.  He 
felt  now  that  it  was  so  much  a  part  of  him  that  he  did  not 
dare  repudiate  it.  He  had  in  him  a  Byronic  repugnance 
for  the  tame  and  commonplace  lot,  and  a  taste  for  pictur- 
esque wickedness.  He  was  not  above  imitating  the  crude 
heroes  of  Cherbuliez  and  Wilkie  Collins,  and  though  he  was 
too  prudent  to  risk  collision  with  the  law,  he  satisfied  his 
romantic  craving  by  mourning  for  maidens  whom  he  never 
lost,  and  suffering  remorse  for  sins  which  he  never  com- 
mitted. It  was,  however,  a  little  cruel  to  have  one  of 
these  imaginary  maidens  turn  up  at  the  present  incon- 
venient moment.  The  disagreeable  query  took  the  doctor 
by  surprise.  He  returned  Gertrude's  gaze  with  a  confu- 
sion which  no  dramatic  brazenness  could  conceal. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2O/ 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me?  "she  demanded,  impetu- 
ously. 

Hawk  in  his  desperate  strait  had  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"  She  is  dead,"  he  answered,  drawing  a  deep  sigh  of  re- 
lief, but  looking  the  picture  of  gloomy  self-accusation. 

"  Is  she  dead  ? "  Gertrude  exclaimed,  wondering.  "  Did 
she  die  of  grief  ?"  she  added,  in  a  soberer  tone. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  to  me  about  it,"  cried  Hawk, 
tossing  his  Hamlet  lock  in  impatience.  "I  should  think 
I  had  suffered  enough  already  for  that  youthful  folly.  I 
was  true  to  her,  I  tell  you,  though  I  never  loved  her ;  I 
once  thought  I  loved  her,  but  from  the  moment  I  saw  you, 
I  knew  that  I  had  deceived  myself.  There  was  consump- 
tion in  her  family,  and  nothing  could  have  saved  her.  So 
you  need  have  no  scruple  on  her  account." 

There  was  something  so  flattering  and  pacifying  in  these 
assurances  that  Gertrude  began  to  reproach  herself  for  her 
doubts.  She  took  the  doctor's  arm,  and  for  a  while  they 
walked  in  silence  along  the  bank  of  the  brook.  There  was 
after  all  (though  she  would  scarcely  have  admitted  it) 
something  deeply  gratifying  in  having  for  a  lover  a  man 
for  whom  there  had  been  such  a  spirited  scramble,  as  long 
as  he  was  yet  unfettered.  Even  the  deluded  faith,  the 
sickness,  and  the  death  of  the  consumptive  claimant  had  a 
charming  air  of  romance  in  it,  and  removed  their  relation 
so  high  above  the  mere  commonplace  loves  of  common- 
place people.  She  began  to  feel  herself  drawn  toward  him 
again  ;  and  as  she  looked  at  his  dark,  interesting  face,  the 
soft  black  mustache  and  beard,  the  red  sensuous  lips, 
and  the  fine  straight  nose,  an  overwhelming  sense  of  his 
worth — his  rare  and  radiant  preciousness — took  possession 
of  her.  She  did  not  see  that  he  had  too  high  a  forehead 
and  too  little  back  head  to  make  a  well-balanced,  success- 
ful man  ;  and  she  could  not  see,  through  the  dense  silky 
beard,  that  he  was  also  rather  deficient  in  chin.  A  very 
silly  thought,  which  she  hesitated  to  utter,  was  worrying 
her  ;  but  she  knew  she  would  have  no  peace  unless  her 
curiosity  was  satisfied. 

"  Was  that  girl,  who  loved  you,  dark  or  blonde  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  bashful  haste. 

"  Dark,"  said  the  doctor,  gloomily. 

That  was  a  great  relief  —  to  know  that  she  was  not 
blonde. 

"  And — and — what  was  her  name  ?  " 

"Mary." 


2O8  THE  MAMMON 

That,  for  some  reason,  also  seemed  satisfactory  ;  though 
it  was  hard  to  imagine  why. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  began  after  a  while,  taking  advantage 
of  his  amiability,  "is  it  true  that  you  had  an  affair  with  a 
high-born  lady  while  you  studied  in  Vienna  ? " 

"My dear  child,"  cried  Hawk,  with  a  fine  assumption  of 
impatience,  "  how  can  that  possibly  interest  you  ?" 

"  Everything  about  you  interests  me." 

"That's  very  nice,  I'm  sure,  but  you  must  excuse  me.  I'd 
rather  not  talk  about  that." 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  unhappy  it  would  make  me — 
that  you  have  secrets  which  I  am  not  to  know " 

"  Well,  well "  (with  superb  masculine  condescension),  "  if 
you  insist.  But  I  assure  you  there  was  nothing  so  very 
dangerous  about  that  affair." 

And  he  related  with  many  piquant  details  how  he  had 
had  the  misfortune  to  attract  the  attention  of  a  high-born 
Russian  lady,  the  Princess  Alexandra  Grabowsky,  who 
was  as  rich  and  beautiful  as  she  was  eccentric.  How  the 
Princess's  father,  who  was  the  Russian  ambassador  in 
Vienna,  had  offered  him  a  large  sum  of  money,  if  he  would 
return  forthwith  to  America,  and  promise  not  to  correspond 
or  in  anyway  communicate  with  his  daughter  ;  how  Hawk 
had  spurned  this  offer,  etc.,  etc. 

There  was  a  flavor  of  "  Ouida  "  about  this  little  romance 
which,  however,  Gertrude  failed  to  detect.  Next  to  Mrs. 
Spofford,  whose  "Amber  Gods"  the  doctor  held  to  be  the 
greatest  modern  novel,  he  regarded  the  much-slandered 
"Ouida"  as  the  most  luminous  light  of  contemporary  fic- 
tion. He  detested  George  Eliot,  and  had  no  patience 
with  Thackeray  ;  and  among  the  poets  his  favorites  were 
Byron  and  Swinburne. 

Rarely  has  a  young  girl  been  more  impressed  with  the 
heroism,  the  beauty,  the  transcendent  magnificence  of  her 
lover,  than  Gertrude  was,  after  her  excursion  with  Dr.  Hawk 
up  to  the  slate  quarry.  She  forgave  him  (oh,  how  readily) 
all  that  he  had  sinned  against  others,  and  felt  so  deliciously 
confident  that,  after  all  his  amatory  aberrations  in  the  past, 
he  had  now  found  his  safe  and  final  anchorage.  He  and 
she  had  been  guided  by  an  eternal  destiny  toward  each 
other  ;  and  it  was  delightful  to  trace  through  a  multitude 
of  apparently  insignificant  incidents  this  providential 
intention  to  bring  their  groping  and  yearning  hearts  to- 
gether. This  discovery,  which  was  proved  beyond  possi- 
bility of  doubt,  filled  her  with  a  jubilant  security  and  per 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2O$ 

haps  also  a  slight  sense  of  superiority  to  the  rest  of  her 
sex  who  had  vainly  striven  to  win  this  rare  prize  which  now 
was  hers.  There  was  passion  and  there  was  innocence, 
there  were  tenderness  and  delicacy  and  a  touching  simplic- 
ity in  the  pure  depths  of  this  strong  and  sweet  nature  ; 
and  though  she  was  swayed  by  moods,  which  often  an- 
tagonized each  other,  there  was  a  fundamental  nobility  in 
her  which  dignified  even  her  vacillation.  Like  Desde- 
inona  of  old,  like  Chrimhild  and  Brunhild,  like  every 
sweet  and  wholesome  girl  in  all  times  and  ages — she  had 
sat  waiting  for  her  hero  ;  and  believing  him  to  be  a  hero, 
she  sang  her  paean  to  him,  and  clasped  him  to  her  heart, 
never  suspecting  what  a  blackamoor  she  held  in  her 
arms. 

Hawk  and  Gertrude,  on  returning  to  the  camp,  found, 
to  their  surprise,  that  their  absence  had  not  caused  any  un- 
easiness ;  nor  did  their  return  cause  any  sensation.  The 
youths  and  maidens,  under  the  lax  supervision  of  a  young 
married  lady  who  feigned  the  role  of  a  chaperon,  had  all 
strolled  off  in  pairs  up  and  down  the  lake  shore  after  the 
mock  boat-race  was  at  an  end,  and  no  one  was  missed  be- 
cause there  was  no  one  to  miss  him. 

At  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  after  a  frugal 
supper,  consisting  of  coffee  and  hard-boiled  eggs,  the 
party  broke  up  and  started  homeward.  The  twilight 
spread  over  the  lake,  and  the  rockets  which  whizzed  up 
from  the  boats  exploded  with  a  resonant  bang  under  the 
silent  skies,  and  dropped  down  their  showers  of  many- 
colored  stars.  The  moon  rose  large,  red,  and  sleepy  be- 
hind the  eastern  hills,  and  showed  the  dark  and  jagged  lines 
of  the  forest  in  luminous  relief.  A  stray  swarm  of  mos- 
quitos  danced  away  over  the  still  water,  sang  for  an  in- 
stant their  angry  little  tune  in  the  ears  of  the  picknickers, 
and  whirled  out  of  sight.  There  was  something  touch- 
ingly  primitive  in  the  frankness  with  which  personal  pref- 
erences were  shown  and  recognized,  and  in  the  dropping 
of  coquettish  airs,  as  the  twilight  grew  softer  and  dimmer, 
in  the  sweet  instinctive  response  to  the  great  universal  law 
which  was  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  which  holds 
creation  together  in  its  innermost  care.  They  did  noth- 
ing very  indiscreet  ;  but  there  were  pressures  of  hands 
which  the  twilight  shielded  ;  there  were  audacious  whis- 
pered compliments,  and  tender  avowals  which  to-morrow 
would  appear  to  be  forgotten.  They  meant  nothing  ex- 
cept a  shy  tentative  yielding  to  the  dim  attraction  be- 
14 


210  THE  MAMMON 

tween  youths  and  maidens,  and  they  were  not  taken  se- 
riously. They  were  mere  phenomena  of  the  spring-time — 
of  the  grand  re-awakening  of  nature.  The  sun-god,  the 
daring  wooer,  kisses  the  slumbering  earth,  and  she 
awakes,  blushes,  and  returns  the  kiss. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  211 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    NOBLE     ROMAN. 

There  were  various  festivities  during  Commencement 
week  in  which  neither  Hawk  nor  Gertrude  chose  to  par- 
ticipate. Mr.  Larkin  appeared,  as  usual,  being,  beside  the 
Governor  of  the  State,  the  chief  dignitary  of  the  occasion. 
He  made  his  annual  speech,  which  was  the  same  every 
year,  and  which  never  lost  its  novelty;  and  its  unfailing 
success  convinced  Mr.  Larkin  that  it  could  not  be  im- 
proved upon.  It  was  short ;  for  Mr.  Larkin  made  no  pre- 
tence to  being  an  orator  ;  and  it  ran  as  follows  : 

"FELLOW-CITIZENS  :  Some  of  us  can  talk  and  some  of  ils 
can  act  ;  but  it  ain't  often  the  same  man  can  do  both  well. 
Some  of  you  can  remember,  I  reckon,  the  time  when  this 
town  had  barely  2,000  inhabitants,  no  gas,  bad  water,  and 
plenty  of  ague.  The  streets  was  unpaved,  and  it  took 
a  foolhardy  man  to  cross  them  on  foot  in  bad  weather. 
That  was  the  way  it  looked  here  when  I  first  come  here. 
There  was  two  churches — one  Methodist  and  one  Presby- 
terian. I  won't  talk  about  how  it  looked  on  the  hill. 
That  was  a  howling  wilderness.  Now,  fellow-citizens,  I 
don't  want  to  brag,  but  I  ask  you  to  look  about  you  and 
tell  me  what  you  see.  The  stately  spires  of  seven  houses 
of  worship  meet  your  eyes  ;  shops  of  every  description, 
abounding  with  costly  wares,  line  our  streets.  We  have  a 
reservoir  which  has  killed  the  fever,  and  we  have  first- 
class  drainage  ;  we  have  gas  to  illuminate  our  streets  ;  and 
our  town  had  at  the  last  census  11,249  inhabitants.  What, 
now,  fellow-citizens,  has  brought  about  this  great  change  ? 
I  say  the  Larkin  University.  (Thundering  applause). 

"The  universities  in  this  country  until  this  institution 
was  founded  were  places  for  the  rich  man's  son  only.  I 
wanted  to  found  a  university  for  the  poor  man's  son. 
(Applause.)  No  high  living,  no  frills  and  flummery,  no 
Oxford  gowns — no  nothing  which  a  poor  man  couldn't 
afford  to  buy.  I  hope  to  live  long  enough  to  see  the  day 
when  a  thousand  young  men  and  women  shall  be  climb- 


212  T-HE  M AMMO  ft 

ing  this  hill  in  the  noble  pursuit  of  learning.  If  I  don't 
see  it  some  of  you  will.  I  am  a  plain  man,  I  didn't  have 
much  schooling  when  I  was  a  boy  ;  but  I  always  felt  the 
want  of  it.  And  when  God  blessed  my  labor  and  gave  me 
wealth,  my  first  thought  was  to  give  the  opportunities  of 
an  education  to  the  many  thousand  boys  in  the  country 
situated  as  I  was.  That's  what  I  have  tried  to  do ;  and  if 
God  will  continue  to  prosper  the  work,  I  reckon,  with  His 
help,  we  may  call  it  a  success." 

The  members  of  Mr.  Larkin's  family  had  heard  this 
speech  so  frequently  that  it  had  ceased  to  interest  them. 
Gertrude  always  listened  to  it  with  burning  ears,  and  a 
sense  of  discomfort.  She  felt  as  if  it  were  herself  who 
was  speaking  and  lapsing  into  bad  grammar.  Aleck  was 
ashamed  of  its  rhetorical  faults,  and  the  obvious  inference 
people  must  be  drawing  from  it,  that  his  uncle  had  founded 
his  university  as  a  real-estate  speculation,  or  to  advance 
the  commercial  prosperity  of  the  town.  But  somehow, 
people  were  slow  to  draw  such  an  inference,  and  at  any 
rate  they  were  not  disposed  to  assume  a  critical  attitude 
toward  the  old  man.  They  knew  he  meant  right,  what- 
ever he  might  say  about  it.  Horace  was  the  only  one 
under  Mr.  Larkin's  roof  from  whom  a  criticism  on  the 
speech  would  not  have  been  taken  amiss.  But  Horace, 
seeing  how  American  it  was,  and  how  characteristic  of  its 
author,  liked  it  without  reserve,  and  refused  to  suggest 
improvements. 

On  the  evening  of  Commencement  day  Mr.  Larkin  gave 
a  dinner  to  the  governor  and  the  Board  of  Trustees.  Mr. 
Robbins  was  there  to  say  grace,  which  he  did  with  the 
elaborateness  which  the  occasion  required. 

The  founder's  dinners  were,  however,  puritanically 
frugal  and  flavorless.  Wine  there  was  none  ;  and  Apolli- 
naris  water  seemed  too  suggestive  of  medicine  and  de- 
rangement of  digestion  to  be  acceptable  as  a  substitute. 
Cigars  were  likewise  tabooed,  and  the  governor  himself, 
who  was  very  dependent  upon,  his  post-prandial  smoke, 
was  obliged  to  go  out  on  the  piazza,  to  enjoy  it.  For  Mr. 
Larkin  understood  no  hints  where  his  convictions  were 
involved,  and  lost  much  of  his  respect  for  the  governor's 
character  when  he  saw  how  he  relished  the  noxious  weed. 
The  magistrate,  on  the  other  hand,  departed  with  an  in- 
creased admiration  for  his  host,  but  this  was  due  to  an  in- 
cident which  occurred  before  the  cigars  were  in  order. 

The    assembled    dignitaries   had  just    despatched   the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  21$ 

soup  and  were  testing  the  quality  of  the  lake  bass,  when 
the  waitress  handed  Mr.  Larkin  a  telegram.  He  opened 
it,  read  it,  and  without  a  change  of  mien,  put  it  in  his 
pocket.  The  conversation  which  turned  chiefly  on  uni- 
versity matters,  continued  without  a  break,  and  no  one 
had  any  suspicion  that  anything  extraordinary  had  hap- 
pened. When  the  meal  was  at  an  end,  however,  and  the 
guests  had  entered  the  parlor,  Mr.  Larkin  beckoned  to 
Horace  and  handed  him  the  telegram.  It  read  as  follows  : 

SAGINAW,  MICH. 

All  twelve  mills  and  lumber  yards  burned  this  after- 
noon. Cause  of  fire  unknown.  Send  representative. 

HAWKINS. 

Horace  knew  that  this  meant  a  loss  of  upward  of  half  a 
million  dollars.  For  Mr.  Larkin  never  insured.  He  in- 
sisted that  it  did  not  pay.  If  there  was  any  profit  in  it 
to  the  insurer,  he  contended,  there  could  be  none  to  the 
companies  ;  and,  as  the  companies  usually  got  rich,  he 
argued  that  the  insurers  usually  were  duped.  He  pre- 
ferred to  take  his  own  risks  and  reap  his  own  profits.  His 
saw-mills  at  Saginaw  were,  at  present,  his  pet  enterprise, 
and  had  yielded  him  a  handsome  percentage  on  his  in- 
vestment. 

"You  had  better  take  the  10.15  train,"  was  all  he  said 
to  Horace  ;  and,  "  All  right,"  was  all  that  Horace  an- 
swered. 

They  were  a  laconic  lot,  but  they  understood  each 
other  so  perfectly  that  words  between  them  seemed  super- 
fluous. There  was  the  same  lumber  in  both  of  them,,  and 
their  mental  processes  worked  in  conscious  sympathy. 
Horace  could  not,  however,  deny  himself  the  pleasure  of 
letting  the  governor  know  what  a  fine  old  Roman  the 
head  of  the  house  of  Larkin  was.  And  the  governor,  who 
was  a  democrat,  was  reminded  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  who, 
walking  with  a  celebrated  Frenchman,  fell  and  broke  his 
arm,  but  continued  the  walk,  talking  brilliantly,  and  mak- 
ing no  reference  to  the  accident. 

In  spite  of  Mr.  Larkin's  love  for  his  University,  there 
had  developed  of  late  years  a  latent  animosity  between 
him  and  the  faculty.  The  old  gentleman,  with  all  his 
benevolence,  was  a  trifle  overbearing  ;  and  could  not  be 
made  to  understand  that  the  professors,  who  would  have 
been  nowhere  but  for  him,  were  not  responsible  to  him 


214  THE  MAMMON 

personally,  and  removable  at  his  pleasure.  He  was  apt  to 
make  his  influence  felt  in  an  emphatic  fashion  in  all  the 
business  concerns  of  the  University,  and  his  voice  was  un- 
derstood to  be  decisive  in  the  appointment  of  every  officer, 
from  the  president  to  the  janitors  and  the  charwomen  who 
scrubbed  the  halls.  He  would  have  no  cavil  in  such 
matters,  and  the  trustees  and  faculty  contented  themselves 
in  the  end  with  finding  excellent  reasons  for  agreeing  with 
him. 

The  students,  too,  gave  Mr.  Larkin  great  trouble.  He 
loved  them  collectively,  but  he  detested  them  individually. 
It  was  not  quite  untrue,  as  Professor  Dowd  (who  was  the 
founder's  pet  aversion)  remarked,  that  Mr.  Larkin  loved 
his  University  but  disliked  nearly  every  one  connected 
with  it, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSA^ESS.  21 5 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
/ 

AN    EXCITING   ENGAGEMENT. 

People  bore  the  summer  weather  in  Torryville,  as  they 
bore  other  visitations  of  Providence,  with  grumbling  sub- 
mission. They  did  not  run  away  from  it,  first,  because  it 
was  not  absolutely  unbearable,  and,  secondly,  for  lack  of 
funds.  The  Larkins,  who  were  an  exception  to  this  rule, 
stayed  at  home  from  habit,  and  because  they  had  comforts 
at  home  which  no  money  could  procure  them  elsewhere. 

Gertie  had  made  Dr.  Hawk  promise  to  keep  their 
engagement  secret  until  she  gave  him  permission  to  make 
it  known.  She  had  exacted  this  promise  chiefly  because 
it  seemed  such  a  delightful  thing  to  have  something  to 
conceal,  and  perhaps  also  because  she  disliked  to  grieve 
Aleck,  who  would,  undoubtedly,  take  the  thing  very  much 
to  heart.  She  had  a  dim  notion  that  Aleck  was  fond  of 
her,  and  she  knew,  too,  that  she  was  very  fond  of  Aleck. 
But  there  had  always  been  something  between  them  like 
an  invisible  wall,  and  she  began  to  suspect  that  this  some- 
thing was  Hawk.  The  thought  had  flashed  through  her 
mind,  two  or  three  times,  that  Aleck's  love  for  her  was  not 
of  the  fraternal  kind,  but  that  he  was  prevented  by  his 
semi-fraternal  relation  to  her  from  revealing  the  true 
nature  of  his  affection.  She  had  noticed,  particularly,  of 
late,  how  sad  his  glance  was,  when  it  rested  upon  her, 
and  how  full  of  mute  reproach.  She  did  not  doubt  that 
he  knew  already  all  that  she  might  have  to  tell  him  ;  but 
this,  somehow,  seemed  an  additional  reason  for  sparing 
him  the  incontrovertible  knowledge.  Not  that  she  re- 
gretted her  choice,  or  had  the  least  misgiving  as  to  its  wis- 
dom. But  she  had  a  little  soft  spot  in  her  heart  for  Aleck 
which  ached  whenever  she  thought  of  the  pain  which  he 
must  suffer  on  her  account.  He  was  so  kind  and  good  and 
reliable  ;  almost  too  good,  she  feared,  for  if  he  had  had  a 
dash  of  wickedness,  or  at  least  a  mysterious  circumstance 
or  other  in  his  antecedents,  his  handsome  appearance  and 
polite  manners  would  have  been  more  appreciated.  For 


2l6  THE  MAMMON 

Gertrude  held,  with  the  majority  of  her  sex,  that  goodness 
unadulterated  was  not  interesting. 

Her  engagement  remained  quite  an  exciting  affair  even 
after  the  edge  of  novelty  had  worn  off.  For  Hawk  was  a 
creature  of  moods,  one  day  blithe  and  gay  (though  there 
was  always  a  touch  of  theatricals  in  his  mirth),  and  the 
next  oppressed  with  a  weight  of  gloom.  He  was  always 
wrestling  with  the  problem  of  existence  ;  forever  (judging 
by  the  tensity  of  his  mental  attitudes)  grabbing  the  sphinx 
by  the  throat,  forcing  it  to  give  up  its  cherished  riddle. 
Sometimes  he  distressed  Gertrude  by  declaring  that  the 
quintessence  of  human  wisdom  was  summarized  in  the 
word  resignation.  That  seemed  a  queer  thing  for  an 
engaged  man  to  say,  surely,  and  she  cudgelled  her  brain 
to  remember  what  she  had  done  or  said  which  had  dis- 
pleased him.  The  story  of  her  mother  she  had  felt  in  duty 
bound  to  tell  him  ;  and  it  troubled  her  to  think  that,  per- 
haps, he  repented  of  his  engagement  after  having  dis- 
covered the  complications  into  which  it  might  lead  him. 
Was  she  right  in  surmising  that  she  was  less  desirable  in 
his  sight  on  account  of  this  unfortunate  mother  ?  He  had, 
indeed,  scarcely  betrayed  any  surprise,  when  she  related 
the  circumstances  of  the  meeting  in  the  Drum  Head 
Ravine  ;  and  she  could  not  quite  get  rid  of  the  suspicion 
that  he  knew  the  whole  story  before,  nay  had  perhaps 
overheard  the  conversation.  This  was  the  drop  of  bitter- 
ness in  her  cup  of  joy.  She  could  not  credit  the  idea — 
nay  she  would  have  scorned  it  if  it  had  been  suggested  to 
her — that  the  doctor  performed  his  little  private  theatri- 
cals for  the  pure  love  of  them  ;  and  because  he  was  a 
dramatic  character  who  could  not  resign  himself  to  com- 
monplace behavior.  She  sought  always  in  her  own  words 
and  conduct  for  reasons  for  his  moods,  when  really  they 
had  no  reasons  at  all.  Yet  he  encouraged  this  sense  of  ac- 
countability in  her,  and  reproached  her  in  a  tender,  emo- 
tional voice  for  things  which  he  had  never  thought  of 
until  she  herself  by  her  anxious  queries  suggested  them. 
He  was  sad  and  gloomily  resigned,  on  general  principles; 
but  was  ungenerous  enough  to  accept  her  imaginary 
offences  as  the  specific  causes  of  his  discontent.  And  she 
found  no  fault  with  him  for  exacting  of  her  an  impossible 
standard  of  conduct.  She  had  a  dread,  no  less  anxious 
than  his,  of  the  common  humdrum  lot ;  and  the  perpetual 
suspense  in  which  his  varying  moods  kept  her  gave  a 
certain  zest  to  life  and  compelled  her  to  keep  her  own 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  21? 

moods  in  abeyance.  She  could  not  afford  to  yield  to 
every  impulse  of  weariness  and  depression,  when  her 
whole  future  happiness  was  at  stake  ;  and  in  her  eagerness 
to  conciliate  him  she  tried  to  remodel  herself  in  accordance 
with  what  she  conceived  to  be  his  ideals,  renouncing  her 
selfish  habits  and  foregoing  every  luxury,  except  that  of 
being  pleasing  in  his  sight.  She  did  not  possess  the 
knowledge  of  the  world  to  see  and  judge  him  as  he  was. 
He  seemed  to  her  a  hero  ;  the  glory  of  his  speech  thrilled 
and  intoxicated  her,  and  his  discontent  seemed  only  the 
expression  of  his  superiority.  She  felt  exalted  in  humiliat- 
ing herself  before  such  a  man  ;  she  alone  had  had  the  eyes 
to  see  and  appreciate  the  nobility  of  this  rare  spirit ;  and 
a  heart  lofty  enough  to  beat  in  unison  with  his. 

Nothing  of  any  consequence  happened  in  Torryville  dur- 
ing the  summer  months.  Mrs.  Larkin  had  recently  with- 
drawn her  sympathies  from  the  Mohammedans,  who,  she  was 
informed,  pretended  to  be  interested  in  Christianity  for 
the  sake  of  the  medical  knowledge  which  they  acquired  in 
the  Beirut  mission,  and  afterward  relapsed  into  the  worship 
of  the  Prophet.  She  had  now  become  convinced  that 
Madagascar  offered  the  most  fertile  field  for  missionary 
effort,  and  was  actually  equipping  a  gentle,  blear-eyed 
young  man  for  an  expedition  to  the  Hovas,  whose  souls 
were  pining  for  the  light.  She  was  growing  more  peevish 
and  plaintive  as  she  grew  older,  and  was  getting  harder  to 
associate  with.  She  was  quick  enough  to  perceive  the  doc- 
tor's attentions  to  Gertie,  and  interpreted  them  as  a  wilful 
affront  to  herself.  She  suspended  all  her  ailments  for  two 
months  ;  and  was  half  inclined  to  call  in  the  obnoxious  Dr. 
Sawyer.  But  this  seemed  almost  too  radical  a  measure. 
She  could  not  quite  give  up  the  expectation  of  luring 
Hawk  back  to  his  allegiance.  His  present  aberration  she 
could  then  afford  to  forgive,  considering  his  youth  and  his 
many  admirable  qualities.  That  he  was  engaged  to  Ger- 
trude she  could  not  believe  ;  for  that  would  argue  a  black- 
hearted ingratitude  with  which  she  could  not  credit  her 
favorite. 

To  enliven  the  summer  dtilness,  and  give  vent  to  her  own 
overcharged  feelings,  Mrs.  Larkin  got  up  a  little  breeze  in 
the  church,  and  forced  poor  Mr.  Robbins  to  take  sides 
with  her,  although  she  had  a  suspicion  that  his  sympathies 
were  on  the  other  side.  Mrs.  Larkin  contended  that  the 
spirit  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  was  getting 
the  upper  hand  in  the  church  ;  and  she  adduced  in  proof 


218  THE  MAMMON 

of  this,  the  luxurious  toilets  in  which  women  (who  could 
really  not  afford  such  extravagance),  came  into  the 
Lord's  house,  rustling  with  silks,  clinking  with  jet,  flaring 
with  gorgeous  ribbons  and  feathers!  There  was,  indeed, 
a  time  when  Mrs.  Larkin  had  herself  not  been  without 
aspirations  as  regards  dress.  But  somehow  she  seemed  to 
have  been  so  made  that  no  dress  would  fit  her  ;  creases 
would  appear  in  the  back  and  over  the  shoulders  ;  and 
about  her  ample  waist  her  gowns  had  a  wry  and  twisted 
look,  which  was  a  source  of  annoyance  to  her  until  she 
discovered  a  sanction  for  it  in  the  Bible.  She  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  well-fitting  dresses  were  of  the  devil,  and 
argued  loss  of  grace.  She  upbraided  Mr.  Robbins  for  his 
laxity,  and  finally  induced  him  to  preach  a  sermon  against 
vanity  of  attire,  which  was  regarded  by  Mrs.  Dallas  as  a 
personal  attack,  and  prepared  the  good  man  no  end  of 
difficulties.  Mr.  Dallas,  who  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled 
with,  came  forward  as  the  champion  of  his  wife's  and  daugh- 
ter's honor,  called  the  parson  to  account,  and,  as  it  was 
rumored,  received  from  him  a  private  apology.  But  as 
Mrs.  Larkin  refused  to  credit  this,  she  still  plumed  herself 
on  having  vindicated  her  authority  and  made  the  devil 
lower  his  banner. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  219 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A    SERIOUS   CONTRETEMPS. 

The  burning  of  the  saw-mills  came  not  inopportunely  to 
Horace,  as  it  compelled  him  to  be  much  away  from  home, 
and  enabled  him  to  charge  his  delinquencies  as  a  lover  to 
the   score  of  business.     Mr.   Larkin,  after  having  ascer- 
tained the  extent  of  the  damage  and  approved  the  plans 
for  rebuilding,  left  everything  in  his  hands,  and  chuckled 
over  the  shrewdness  he  displayed  in  penetrating  shams 
and  detecting  frauds.     He  tested  every  item  in  the  esti- 
mates that  were  submitted  to  him  with  a  practical  sense 
and  sagacity  which  filled  his  uncle  with  delight.     It  was 
rumored,  too,  that  as  the  Torryville    car-wheel  factory  had 
suspended  operations  for  the  summer  season,  Horace  se- 
lected some  two  hundred  or  three   hundred   naturalized 
citizens    of    Democratic    proclivities   among    the   factory!  I 
hands,  and   shipped   them  to   Michigan,  where    he  gave    / 
them   employment  in  rebuilding   the  saw-mills.     A  man  / 
would  have  to  be  blinder  than  a  bat  not  to  see  the  mean-  / 
ing  of  that;  for  those  two  hundred  or  three  hundred  Hi- 1 
bernians  would  be  back  before  November,  and  then  they' 
would  pay  the  price  of  the  bargain  by  voting  for  Horace 
Larkin. 

Rumors  of  these  proceedings  did  not  fail  to  reach  the 
parsonage  and  cause  Mr.  Robbins  much  annoyance.  He 
regarded  such  performances  as  little  less  than  dishonor- 
able, and  could  not  sufficiently  reprobate  the  furtive  ad- 
miration with  which  they  were  viewed  by  the  people  in 
general.  Bella  repeatedly  got  herself  into  difficulties  with 
her  lady  friends  by  championing  Horace's  integrity  and 
giving  the  lie  direct  to  those  who  ventured  to  asperse  it ; 
but  felt  ill  repaid  when  he  laughed  at  her  zeal,  and  told 
her  jocosely  not  to  burden  herself  with  the  responsibility 
for  his  misdeeds.  She  sometimes  felt  out  of  patience  with 
his  eternal  joking,  which  indicated  either  lack  of  confidence 
or  lack  of  respect ;  but  she  was  careful  not  to  let  him  sus- 
pect the  faintest  shade  of  disapproval.  For,  of  course,  she 


220  THE  MAMMON 

could  not  force  him  to  confide  in  her  ;  she  had  to  take 
thankfully  whatever  he  offered.  And  she  loved  him  with 
an  absorbing  affection  and  fervor  which  (when  her  im- 
patience had  spent  itself)  made  all  that  he  said  seem  brill- 
iant, and  all  that  he  did  perfect.  She  persuaded  herself 
then  that  there  was  nothing  which  she  desired  or  could 
desire  that  she  did  not  find  in  him.  She  surrendered  her- 
self to  his  cool  and  rare  caresses  with  an  impassioned  ten- 
derness and  a  luxurious  self-extinction  which  many  a  time 
planted  a  pang  in  his  heart,  and  made  him  shrink  from  the 
intention  which  lay,  perfectly  formulated,  in  the  back- 
ground of  his  mind,  waiting  for  its  opportunity.  He  was 
well  aware  of  the  atrocity  of  this  intention  ;  but  palliated 
it  with  the  reflection  that  it  was  for  her  sake,  not  for  his 
own,  that  he  let  the  relation  drift  on.  He  had  no  idea  of 
keeping  her  as  a  dernier  ressort,  in  case  Kate  should  reject 
him  ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  he  did  not  in  the  least  doubt 
his  ability  to  win  Kate,  and,  secondly,  he  would  have  re- 
garded it  as  ignoble  to  play  under  cover  and  abuse  her 
confidence  while  yet  coveting  it.  He  held  it,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  be  perfectly  fair  and  square  to  burn  his  bridges 
behind  him  ;  to  break  an  engagement  which  he  had  entered 
into  with  a  false  or  imperfect  understanding  of  the  case  ; 
but  he  was  yet  unable  to  steel  himself  against  an  occa- 
sional access  of  pity  or  self-contempt.  For  all  that,  his 
resolution  remained  unaltered  ;  he  would  accomplish  his 
purpose  with  all  due  kindness  and  consideration,  inflicting 
as  little  pain  as  possible.  He  was  only  waiting  /or  a  favor- 
able moment  ;  and  an  excuse  or  pretext  that  might  afford 
him,  at  least,  a  shadow  of  justification. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  preparations  for  the  fall  elections 
were  rapidly  being  pushed  by  the  political  managers  ;  and 
the  nomination  for  the  Assembly  was  offered  to  Horace 
as  he  had  expected.  In  fact  he  had  "  laid  his  pipes  "  as 
the  phrase  is,  so  shrewdly,  that  there  was  no  escape  from 
nominating  him,  without  courting  defeat.  Knowing,  how- 
ever, that  his  resources  were  ample,  the  managers  de- 
manded an  assessment  of  three  thousand  dollars,  which 
after  some  deliberation  he  agreed  to  pay.  He  knew  per- 
fectly well  that  they  were  afraid  of  him,  foreseeing  that 
the  day  he  grasped  the  helm,  their  power  would  be  at  an 
end.  He  had,  indeed,  an  ideal  equipment  for  a  political 
boss,  being  a  keen  judge  of  men,  endowed  with  sagacity, 
unruffled  by  temper,  unburdened  by  superfluous  scruples. 

Unhappily  he  had  his  money  so  well  invested  that  he 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  221 

preferred  to  borrow  the  amount  of  the  assessment  rather 
than  sell  any  of  his  mortgages  or  bank  stock.  It  occurred 
to  him,  too,  that  he  would  be  doing  Aleck  a  favor  in  with- 
drawing some  of  the  latter's  bank  deposit  from  circulation  ; 
for  Aleck  was  conspicuously  lacking  in  the  financial  sense, 
and  squandered  his  funds  in  nothings,  in  a  way  that  made 
his  brother's  heart  ache.  It  was  therefore  with  a  half 
benevolent  impulse  that  he  approached  him  with  the 
proposition  for  a  loan. 

"  I  have  got  about  $500  in  cash,"  he  said ;  "  and  if  you 
can  help  me  out  with  $2,500,  I  shall  be  much  obliged." 

Aleck,  who  was  sitting  in  his  shirt  sleeves  in  the  office, 
smoking,  and  reading  a  popular  magazine,  looked  up  at 
his  brother  with  his  most  engaging  smile  and  exclaimed  : 
"  Why,  certainly;  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  let  you  have 
all  I  have  got.  My  bank  account  has  been  in  an  uncom- 
fortably plethoric  condition  since  I  gave  that  able  opinion 
which  was  really  yours,  in  the  case  of  McTavish  vs. 
Henley." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Horace,  "  I  ought  to  tell  you  what  I 
want  it  for." 

"  Not  unless  you  prefer  to." 

"Well,  there's  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  tell  you." 

There  was  possibly  a  tinge  of  malice  in  this  candor  ;  he 
wanted  to  make  Aleck  particeps  criminis — an  accomplice 
in  something  of  which  he  disapproved.  He  imagined  that 
he  needed  a  good  many  lessons  of  this  sort  before  he 
would  be  equipped  for  success  of  a  practical  kind.  His 
sensitive  conscience  needed  to  be  battered  until  it  became 
pachydermatous. 

"You  know,"  Horace  continued,  "I  am  going  to  be 
nominated  for  the  Assembly  at  the  convention  next  week. 
I've  got  the  thing  dead  sure." 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  it,"  said  Aleck  guilelessly  ;  "  and 
you  are  willing  to  accept  the  nomination  from  the  Ma- 
chine ?" 

"  If  you  can  tell  me  of  any  other  organization  in  this 
county  from  which  a  nomination  is  worth  anything,  I  will 
consider  it." 

Aleck  flung  his  magazine  on  the  table  and  smoked  for 
a  while  in  silence. 

"  Horace,"  he  ejaculated  with  ardor,  "you  know  as  well 
as  I  what  a  lot  of  infamous  tricksters  those  men  are.  I 
should  think  you  would  respect  yourself  too  much  to  enter 
into  partnership  with  them." 


222  THE  MAMMON 

"Well,  my  dear  fellow,  you  have  got  to  take  the  world 
as  you  find  it.  I  can't  undertake  to  reform  it  in  one  short 
life-time.  Anyway  I  have  no  taste  for  martyrdom.  I  mean 
to  achieve  something  definite,  and  in  order  to  do  that,  I 
have  got  to  use  the  tools  which  I  find  handy.  If  I  were 
to  construct  my  own  tools,  beside  destroying  the  old 
ones,  I  should  get  no  further." 

Aleck  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  sat  again  looking 
thoughtfully  out  of  the  window.  A  blue-bottle  fly  was 
bumping  boozily  against  the  pane,  tumbling  down  upon 
the  sill,  and  again  flinging  itself,  with  a  persistence  wor- 
thy of  a  better  cause,  against  the  invisible  but  unyielding 
substance.  Aleck,  after  having  watched  its  desperate 
and  futile  struggles,  got  up,  opened  the  window,  and  let 
it  out. 

"Why,"  he  asked,  impulsively,  "do  all  the  world's  influ- 
ences conspire  to  break  down  a  man's  honesty?" 

"  Because  the  average  man  is  not  as  yet  particularly 
honest,"  Horace  replied,  promptly;  "he  is  moderately  hon- 
est when  it  pays,  but  no  more.  The  world  or  society  is 
but  the  expression  of  the  average  man's  morality  ;  and  it 
is  what  he  is." 

"  Then  it  is  the  duty  of  those  who  are  in  advance  of  the 
average  morality  to  raise  their  banner  high,  and  try  to 
make  the  rest  follow  it." 

"Well,  I  have  no  objection  to  anybody's  doing  that,  if 
his  tastes  lie  in  that  direction.  But  he  does  it  at  his  peril, 
and  ten  to  one,  he  forfeits  his  chances  of  any  but  a  posthu- 
mous success.  Even  Christ,  idealist  as  he  was,  recognized 
that  fact  when  he  said,  '  Make  ye,  therefore,  friends  of  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness.' " 

"  But  the  beauty,  the  exaltation,  the  delight  of  such  a 
worlt,  I  should  think  that  was  worth  more  than  even  what 
you  call  success." 

"  I  may  be  deficient,  but  I  can't  see  the  beauty  of  but- 
ting your  head  against  a  stone  wall,  and  that  is  what  it 
really  amounts  to." 

"  But  in  the  course  of  time  your  head,  though  it  be  sore, 
may  make  an  impression  upon  the  wall." 

"Yes,  but  in  the  meanwhile,  the  wall  will  have  made  a 
very  much  deeper  impression  upon  your  head." 

"  But  suppose  the  wall  hid  a  grand  and  beautiful  view 
and  debarred  mankind  from  its  ennobling  enjoyment, 
would  it  not  be  worth  a  broken  head,  nay,  a  thousand  bro- 
ken heads,  to  have  it  destroyed  ?" 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  22$ 

"  It  might  be  worth  your  head,  but  it  is  not  worth  mine. 
As  long  as  someone  else  does  the  butting,  I  have  no  earthly 
objection.  I  am  even  willing  to  applaud,  and  privately 
bandage  his  head.  But  in  the  end  it  amounts  to  this  :  it  is 
folly  to  attempt  the  impossible,  even  if  it  be  ever  so  sub- 
lime." 

"  He  who  never  attempts  the  impossible  will  never 
achieve  the  possible,"  replied  Aleck,  with  superb  enthusi- 
asm. 

Horace,  who  had  been  seated  in  the  revolving  chair, 
with  his  back  to  his  brother,  got  up,  and  began  to  saunter 
about  on  the  floor.  He  struck  a  match,  lighted  a  fresh 
cigar — a  black,  strong,  high-flavored  Havana — and  puffing 
the  fragrant  smoke  against  the  ceiling,  planted  himself  in 
front  of  Aleck. 

"  It  is  no  use  talking,"  he  said  ;  "we  shall  never  agree 
on  that  point.  You  know  you  are  awfully  headstrong,  and 
opinionated.  But  let  me  have  your  check  for  $2,500,  and 
I'll  forgive  you  your  heresies." 

Aleck  pulled  out  a  drawer,  rather  hesitatingly,  and  took 
out  his  check-book. 

"  Horace,"  he  said,  coloring  to  the  edge  of  his  hair,  "do 
you  know  what  this  money  is  to  be  used  for  ?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"  And  it  isn't  a  trick  you  want  to  play  upon  me  ;  as  you 
did  a  year  ago,  when  you  advised  me  to  hire  buggies  and 
use  the  family  influence  to  make  votes  for  Wolf." 

"  Stuff !  Don't  be  a  fool.  I  want  the  money,  and  I  want 
it  to-day." 

"To  pay  for  your  nomination  ?" 

"Call  it  that,  if  you  like." 

"Then  I  wish  you  would  borrow  of  somebody  else.  I 
don't  like  to  be  made  a  party  to  such  a  transaction." 

Horace  was  not  an  irascible  man  ;  his  wrath  kindled  slow 
ly,  and  it  glowed  and  smouldered  long  before  it  blazed  forth. 

"  Say  that  again,"  he  demanded  calmly, gritting  his  teeth. 

"  I  think  you  heard  what  I  said,"  his  brother  replied, 
struggling  to  master  his  excitement ;  "  I  can  see  no  rea- 
son for  repeating  it." 

"  And  you  don't  want  to  lend  me  the  money  ?" 

"No." 

"You  think  I'm  little  better  than  a  scoundrel,  eh  ?" 

"  Those  were  your  words,  not  mine." 

"And  you  presume  to  set  yourself  up  as  a  judge  of  my 
actions,  eh  ?" 


224  THE  MAMMON 

He  spoke  yet  with  outward  composure,  but  his  voice 
shook  with  suppressed  anger  ;  and  his  eyes  had  a  pinched 
and  ugly  look. 

"  I  can't  help  judging,"  Aleck  rejoined  ;  "  it  was  your- 
self who  challenged  my  judgment." 

"And  are  you  such  a  blasted  fool  as  to  suppose  that  it 
makes  the  slighest  difference  to  me  whether  you  lend  me 
your  paltry  pennies  or  not  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  I  am  fool  enough  to  wish  to  keep  my  honor 
unstained.  I  want  to  live  uprightly — not  tolerably  up- 
rightly, or  moderately  uprightly,  but  absolutely  uprightly. 
If  you  have  supposed  that  all  my  professions  on  this  sub- 
ject are  mere  phrases,  I  shall  have  to  disabuse  you.  If  we 
must  part  company,  as  I  fear  we  must,  then  don't  think 
any  harder  of  me  than  you  have  to." 

Horace,  pale,  sullen,  and  determined,  stood  with  his 
chin  upon  his  chest,  chewing  his  cigar  and  gazing  through 
his  pinched  eyelids  at  his  brother.  His  anger,  which  kept 
working  like  a  subterranean  fire  within  him,  was  a  clear, 
flameless  glow  which  sent  up  no  smoke  to  obscure  his 
judgment.  The  phrase  "  If  we  must  part,"  kept  humming 
in  his  ears  ;  it  had  often  occurred  to  him  before  that  it 
would  be  for  his  advantage  to  dissolve  the  partnership 
with  Aleck,  but  he  had  never  supposed  that  Aleck  would 
be  fool  enough  to  make  the  suggestion  ;  nor  had  he  ever 
expected  to  make  it  himself.  He  loved  Aleck  as  well  as 
he  was  capable  of  loving  anybody  ;  and  he  had  always  had 
a  sense  of  fraternal  protectorship  over  him  which  is  apt  to 
foster  affection.  Moreover,  there  was  a  cordial  compan- 
ionship between  them  which  neither  the  one  nor  the  other 
had  ever  established  with  any  other  man.  They  were,  in 
spite  of  all  differences  of  taste  and  temperament,  congenial. 
Horace  might  deplore  Aleck's  fondness  for  poetry  and 
fiction,  which,  he  contended,  interfered  with  professional 
success,  but  he  did  not  fail,  in  a  dim  way,  to  perceive  what 
a  sweet  and  noble  nature  revealed  itself  through  these 
alleged  aberrations,  and  to  round  out  his  own  culture 
vicariously  through  his  brother's  conversation  and  read- 
ing. But  all  these  considerations,  if  they  occurred  to 
him,  were  overborne  by  an  instinctive  greed  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  a  moment  which  might  never  return.  It  was 
anger  and  outraged  dignity  which  prompted  his  words,  but 
then  there  was  also  a  still  small  voice  of  calculation  as  he 
strode  toward  the  door  and  looking  back  over  his  shoulder 
cried  out:  "You  fool,  you  have  thrown  away  your  life." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  22$ 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A    PAINFUL    PARTING. 

Aleck,  feeling  that  the  breach  with  his  brother  was  ir- 
reparable, determined  to  leave  the  town.  He  discussed 
the  matter  with  his  uncle,  who  was  somewhat  surprised,  but 
offered  no  serious  objection.  Only  he  insisted  that  his 
nephew  must  put  poetry  and  that  sort  of  stuff  out  of  his 
head,  and  start  out,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  make  an  honest 
living.  Journalism  was,  on  the  whole,  not  a  bad  profes- 
sion, and  if  Aleck  wished  to  try  his  hand  at  it,  Mr.  Lar- 
kin  would  give  him  letters  to  prominent  editors  in  New 
York,  who  might  give  him  a  chance  to  distinguish  him- 
self. There  was  a  kind  of  benevolent  indifference  in  his 
manner  while  he  spoke,  which  hurt  Aleck  and  made  him 
want  to  be  gone  as  soon  as  possible.  He  had  dreamed 
for  years  of  tearing  himself  away  from  the  uncongenial 
practice  of  the  law,  and  by  some  startlingly  magnificent 
novel  or  poem  which  some  day  he  meant  to  write,  to 
make  his  fame  and  his  living  as  a  man  of  letters.  He 
therefore  accepted  his  uncle's  recommendations,  hoping 
through  the  portal  of  journalism  to  make  his  entrance 
into  the  temple  of  literature.  His  ambition  was  hot 
within  him.  The  world  lay  shimmering  in  the  flush  of 
dawn  at  his  feet,  and  dimly  radiant  visions  beckoned  him 
from  afar. 

There  was  only  one  thing  that  pained  him.  He  must 
take  leave  of  Gertrude.  She  was  the  only  young  woman 
whom  he  had  known  well,  and  yet  he  sometimes  felt  as  if 
he  did  not  know  her  at  all.  She  appealed  to  the  chival- 
rous instinct  in  him,  and  made  him  vaguely  aglow  with 
tenderness  and  sweet  unrest.  He  would  have  liked  to 
play  the  part  of  the  young  Lochinvar  to  her  ;  conquer  her 
at  first,  if  need  be,  rudely,  arid  then  afterward  woo  and 
win  her  by  gentle  speech,  deep  devotion,  and  the  grad- 
ual revelation  of  all  the  wealth  of  affection  and  intellect 
which  she  never  suspected.  He  wished  that  he  were  a 


226  THE  MAMMON 

stranger  to  her ;  so  that  he  might  meet  her  face  to  face 
and  soul  to  soul,  with  no  distorting  superficial  acquaint- 
ance or  relationship.  He  had  gotten  into  a  false  attitude 
toward  her,  as  a  sort  of  jocose  and  amiable  brother,  who 
could  be  abused  and  petted  ad  libitum.  Again  and  again 
he  had  made  the  attempt  to  get  nearer  to  her  ;  but  always 
this  hateful  character,  which  he  did  not  know  how  he  had 
acquired,  clung  to  him  like  a  strait-jacket  and  made  him 
seem  unnatural  both  to  himself  and  her.  Then  again 
Hawk,  whom  Aleck  detested  and  despised,  stood  between 
them  like  a  menacing  shadow  ;  and  drove  them  into  talk- 
ing artificial  commonplaces  in  order  to  avoid  talking 
about  him.  The  opinion  which  each  knew  that  the  other 
entertained  of  Hawk  was  an  insurmountable  bar  to  confi- 
dence. 

For  all  that,  Aleck  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  leave 
town  without  making  one  more  effort  to  remove  this  bar- 
rier. This  time  he  meant  to  speak  freely  of  Hawk,  and 
take  the  cbnsequences.  For  he  foresaw  that,  without  his 
warning,  their  relation  would  drift,  sooner  or  later,  into 
an  engagement.  He  found  Gertie  in  the  garret,  which 
she  had  covered  with  rugs  and  draped  with  curtains  of 
mummy  cloth,  until  it  bore  a  resemblance  to  a  studio. 
She  pulled  a  burlap  over  the  figure  upon  which  she  was 
working,  as  he  opened  the  door  ;  and  was  busy  for  some 
minutes  pinning  it  to  the  wet  cloth  which  was  wrapped 
about  the  clay.  Then  she  rolled  up  hastily  a  sheet  of 
tinted  paper  upon  which  he  detected  two  or  three  unmis- 
takable likenesses  of  Dr.  Hawk.  When,  at  last,  she  was 
obliged  to  face  him,  her  cheeks  burned,  and  she  bit  her 
lip  as  if  to  conceal  a  slight  confusion. 

"  Why,  Aleck,"  she  cried,  breaking  into  an  embarrassed 
laugh,  "what  possesses  you  to  come  and  see  me  here  ? " 

"  I  am  going  away,"  said  Aleck,  gravely  ;  "  and  I  want 
to  say  good-by  to  you." 

"  Going  away  ?     Where,  if  I  may  ask  ? " 

"To  New  York." 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  be  gone  ?" 

"  I  can't  tell  ;  probably  forever." 

"What  has  happened  ?"  she  cried,  with  vague  surprise. 
"  Is — is — is  it  the  doctor  ?  " 

The  color  again  flared  into  her  face  and  she  turned 
away  toward  the  window  and  began  to  pull  up  the  shade. 
It  struck  him  that  there  was  something  almost  heartless  in 
the  way  she  uttered  these  words.  The  note  of  sympathy 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

was  so  glaringly  absent  that  her  voice  jarred  upon  his  ears 
like  a  discord.  He  noticed,  too,  as  she  stood  before  him, 
with  the  great  clay-stained  apron  covering  the  front  of  her 
dress,  a  certain  buoyancy  in  her  bearing,  quite  different 
from  her  usual  listlessness.  She  held  her  head  with  em- 
pressement  and  in  her  features  there  was  an  animation  which 
made  him  ill  at  ease.  Was  she  crowing  over  his  defeat  ; 
trying  to  assert  her  superiority,  or  was  she  merely  relieved 
at  his  disappearance  from  the  scene  ?  She  perceived  that 
she  had  wounded  him  by  her  manner,  and  repeated  her 
question  in  a  more  subdued  tone. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Aleck  ?"  she  asked  ;  "you  look  as 
if  you  had  lost  your  last  friend." 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  the  matter,"  he  answered,  being 
forced  into  insincerity  by  her  indifferent  manner.  "  I  have 
thought  of  going  away  for  a  good  while ;  and  it  is  just  as 
well  that  I  should  go  now  as  at  any  other  time." 

She  was  not  in  the  least  deceived,  of  course,  by  such  a 
reply  ;  but  believing  that  Hawk  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
difficulty,  was  in  doubt  whether  she  should  invite  further 
confidence. 

"Well,  Aleck,"  she  said,  taking  off  her  apron  and  ad- 
justing the  skirt  of  her  dress  with  a  few  shakes  and  pats, 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  are  right.  There's  really  no 
field  for  a  man  of  your  talents  here  in  Torryville.  I  really 
wonder  how  you  have  been  able  to  stand  it  so  long." 

He  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  seated  himself  upon  an 
inverted  dry-goods  box  which  was  draped  with  flowered 
chintz.  She  took  her  seat  opposite  to  him  in  an  ancient 
arm-chair  and  began  to  turn  over  the  leaves  in  her  sketch- 
book. 

"  What  was  that  you  were  working  at  as  I  came  in  ? "  he 
queried  with  pretended  indifference. 

"  Oh,  I  was  just  amusing  myself,''  she  answered,  eva- 
sively. 

"  Pull  off  those  rags  and  let  me  see  it." 

"  No,  you  must  excuse  me,  Aleck,  I  would  rather  not," 
she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  an  air  of  mild  defi- 
ance. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  if  you  don't  want  to,"  he  responded 
after  a  pause,  sadly  ;  "  and  I  suppose  it  is  too  late,  now, 
to  warn  you  against  the  original." 

"  The  original  of  what  ?  " 

"Of  your  bust," 

"Aleck,  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  mean  !  " 


228  7W.fi:  MAMMON 

There  was  a  sudden,  impetuous  challenge  in  her  voice, 
which  told  him  the  whole  story. 

"  I  mean  this,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  commiseration, 
"that  sooner  or  later  you'll  find  out  your  mistake." 

"Aleck,"  she  cried,  threateningly,  "I  don't  allow  any- 
one to  speak  to  me  like  that." 

She  had  risen  and  stood  before  him,  flushed  and  imperi- 
ous. 

"  You'll  have  to  make  an  exception  in  my  case,"  he  an- 
swered in  the  same  gentle  voice  ;  "it  may  be  a  long  time 
before  I  see  you  again — and — and — I  have  no  wish  to  give 
you  pain  needlessly.  It's  only  this  I  want  to  say,  that  when 
you  find  out  that  my  judgment  of  him  is  right — when  he 
fails  you  in  the  moment  when  you  most  need  him — for  he's 
bound  to  do  that — then  remember  that  I  have  loved  you, 
or  rather  forget  it,  if  you  like,  but  remember  that  I  warned 
you." 

He  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  to  her  ;  but  she  appeared 
not  to  see  it. 

"You  are  very  kind,  indeed,"  she  said,  with  chilling  hau- 
teur ;  "but  I  should  prefer  if  you  would  keep  your  pre- 
dictions to  yourself.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  am  en- 
gaged to  Dr.  Hawk  and  expect  to  be  married  to  him  soon. 
I  knew,  of  course,  you  didn't  like  him,  but  I  believed  you 
to  be  too  generous  to  come  here  and  malign  him  to  me." 

"Very  well,  Gertie,  don't  let  us  talk  about  it  any  more," 
he  murmured,  with  mournful  resignation  ;  "  I  shan't 
bother  you  any  more,  dear.  Only  permit  me  to  say  this  : 
I  am  very,  very  sorry." 

"  I  don't  see  what  pleasure  it  can  give  you  to  be  stand- 
ing here  and  tormenting  me,"  she  cried,  with  a  voice  of 
blended  anger  and  grief;  "you  know  I  don't  want  to  be 
unkind  to  you,  Aleck,  but  you  try  me  so  terribly." 

"  Well,  I'll  try  you  no  more.     Good-by  !  " 

He  reached  out  his  palm  once  more,  and  she  looked  at 
it,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  she  could  afford  to  relent  or  not. 
Then  with  an  impulsive  movement  she  put  her  hands  upon 
his  shoulders,  looked  at  him  with  a  tearful  brightness  in 
her  eyes  and  said  cordially  : 

"  Aleck,  I  am  so  fond  of  you — you  have  been  so  good  to 
me — that  I  could  cry  to  think — that  you  could  speak  that 
way  of  the  man  I  love." 

"  It  cannot  be  helped,  dear,"  he  answered,  returning  her 
gaze  with  a  dismal  smile.  It  came  over  him  with  a  chilly 
sense  of  desolation  that  this  girl,  who  was  so  dear  to  him, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  229 

who  had  been  so  large  a  part  of  his  life  and  thought,  must 
henceforth  belong  to  another,  and  be  as  nothing  to  him 
and  he  nothing  to  her.  And  never  had  she  appeared  so 
lovable,  so  supremely  desirable  in  his  eyes  as  in  this  mo- 
ment. She  was  so  tall  and  fair  and  innocent,  so  nobly 
virginal,  so  full  of  fresh,  pure,  unwasted  sentiment.  And 
to  think  that  this  rich  and  sweet  affection  was  to  be  lav- 
ished upon  a  cool,  calculating  knave,  who  had  not  a  spark 
of  true  and  wholesome  feeling  in  him,  who  had  deluded 
her  inexperienced  heart  by  an  impressive  bit  of  acting — that 
was  the  acme  of  bitterness.  It  seemed  heartrending  that 
such  a  wrong,  so  fruitful  in  misery,  though  foreseen,  could 
not  be  prevented.  And  yet  how  touching  was  this  reso- 
lute blindness  of  hers,  this  invincible  loyalty  to  one  who 
was  so  unworthy  of  her  ;  who,  if  it  were  for  his  advantage, 
would  throw  her  off  like  a  worn-out  garment.  Aleck,  as 
these  thoughts  flitted  through  his  mind,  prayed  that  such 
a  situation  might  be  brought  about  soon,  before  the  irrev- 
ocable step  had  been  taken.  If  he  were  not  going  away, 
and  above  all,  if  he  were  not  a  rival,  whose  motives  were 
scarcely  disinterested,  he  would  bend  all  his  energies  to 
unmasking  the  doctor,  or  rather  contrive  a  situation  in 
which  the"  doctor  would  inevitably  unmask  himself.  But 
these  were  both  disheartening  "ifs."  As  they  seemed 
more  insurmountable  to  Aleck  the  more  he  thought  of 
them,  he  packed  his  trunk  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  de- 
parted on  the  evening  train  for  New  York. 


23O  THE  MAMMON' 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

A   DEMORALIZING    RUBBER    SHOE. 

The  first  result  of  Aleck's  departure  was  the  removal  of 
the  sign-board  over  the  office-door,  bearing  the  inscription 
in  big  gilt  letters  : 

LARKIN   BROTHERS, 
ATTORNEYS   AND    COUNSELORS   AT    LAW, 

and  the  appearance  of  a  new  and  smaller  one,  in  which 
the  firm  was  reduced  to : 

HORACE  LARKIN, 
ATTORNEY    AND    COUNSELOR   AT    LAW. 

About  the  beginning  of  October  the  Republican  Con- 
vention met,  and  the  gentleman  thus  designated  was,  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  expectation,  nominated  for  the  Assembly. 
He  had  no  idea  of  making  an  active  canvass,  as  there  were 
no  great  issues  at  stake,  and  he  felt  tolerably  confident  of 
his  election.  Nevertheless,  a  ratification  meeting  was 
called  at  Tappan's  Opera  House,  toward  the  middle  of  the 
month,  and  Horace  was  put  down  for  a  speech.  It  was  a 
great  and  enthusiastic  gathering,  which  would  have  car- 
ried consternation  into  the  ranks  of  the  Democracy,  if  an 
incident  had  not  occurred  which  was  much  magnified  by 
the  opposition  paper  and  furnished  material  for  no  end  of 
squibs.  Horace  was  pretty  well  launched  in  his  eloquence, 
and  was  giving  a  moving  picture  of  the  lamentable  condi- 
tion of  the  poor  Southern  negro,  who  was  not  allowed  to 
vote,  and  whose  life  was  altogether  too  sad  to  be  contem- 
plated without  tears,  when  suddenly  a  rubber  shoe,  flying 
through  the  air  in  the  direction  of  the  speaker,  struck  the 
gas  fixture  and  brought  two  glass  globes  down  upon  the 
heads  of  two  venerable  bald-headed  citizens.  One  of 
these,  being  an  irascible  man,  seized  the  missile,  hurled  it 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

at  random  in  the  direction  whence  it  came,  and  hit  Pro- 
fessor Dovvd  in  the  nose  with  such  force  that  he  upset  his 
chair  and  fell  backward  into  the  lap  of  an  old  farmer. 
Some  students,  who  were  probably  responsible  for  the  first 
flight  of  the  rubber  shoe,  took  care  to  keep  it  in  motion, 
and  while  the  speaker,  who  affected  to  ignore  the  disturb- 
ance, was  in  the  midst  of  a  tremendous  tirade  against  the 
rebel  brigadiers,  the  damp  flabby  thing,  in  its  unforeseen 
gyration,  hit  him  in  the  mouth,  and  nearly  knocked  him 
off  the  platform. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  Horace  lost  control 
of  his  temper.  "  The  darned  fool,  who  threw  that  rubber," 
he  cried,  with  a  face  white  with  wrath,  "is — is —  "  but 
then  he  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  addressing  the 
electors,  who  had  the  power  to  make  or  mar  him,  and  with 
an  abrupt  moderation  of  tone  he  finished  :  "  is  not  a  gen- 
tleman." 

The  unintentional  humor  of  that  exclamation  struck  the 
audience  with  irresistible  force.  A  loud  guffaw  in  shrill 
youthful  trebles  and  old  husky  basses,  drowned  the  orator's 
voice,  as  he  attempted  to  continue  ;  and  every  time  he 
opened  his  mouth  a  fresh  wave  of  laughter  would  break 
forth  and  sweep  over  the  crowd,  until  the  windows  shook 
and  the  gas  globes  trembled.  Horace,  knowing  that  it  is 
impossible  to  argue  against  laughter,  rapidly  retired  from 
the  platform,  and  was  followed  by  Mr.  Dallas,  who  gave 
him  rather  a  cooler  endorsement  than  he  had  expected  to 
do,  because  he  saw  in  this  rubber  incident  and  the  subse- 
quent laugh  an  indication  that  possibly  he  had  over-esti- 
mated his  popularity.  Horace  was  not  slow  to  perceive 
this  note  in  the  manager's  remarks  ;  and  he  saw,  too,  a 
possibility  that  he  might  be  knocked  out  of  the  race  by 
this  same  unlucky  rubber.  He  had  to  retrieve  himself; 
that  was  obvious,  or  his  prestige  would  suffer.  Accord- 
ingly, when  Mr.  Dallas  had  finished  his  remarks  about  the 
Republican  "  Pairty  "  and  worked  himself  up  into  a  tre- 
mendous state  of  excitement,  Horace  stepped  smilingly 
forward  and  begged  leave  to  tell  a  story.  The  chairman 
had  a  good  mind  to  deny  him  the  privilege,  but,  on  second 
thought,  gave  a  reluctant  consent. 

"  I  am  reminded  by  this  rubber,  which  closed  my  mouth 
for  one  instant,"  he  began,  in  an  easy  conversational  tone, 
"of  an  incident  which  occurred  during  the  late  War  of  the 
Rebellion.  A  gaunt,  rheumatic  Yankee,  well  up  in  the 
forties,  had  enlisted  in  the  first  flush  of  his  enthusiasm  for 


232  THE  MAMMON 

the  Union  cause.  He  took  part  in  the  first  fight  at  Bull 
Run,  and  during  the  forced  marches  in  the  terrible  July 
heat  became  utterly  exhausted.  To  make  matters  worse, 
his  boots,  which  were  a  bad  fit,  had  gnawed  a  big  piece  off 
his  heel,  and  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  keep  up  with 
his  company,  if  a  charitable  soul  had  not  presented  him 
with  an  old  rubber.  So  he  limped  along  for  a  while  the 
best  he  could  ;  but  after  a  while  fell  again  behind. 

"  'Hurry  up  now,  old  man/  cried  the  sergeant  to  him  ; 
'no  time  now  to  stop  for  refreshments.' 

"  The  old  man,  with  a  supreme  effort,  hobbled  on  ;  but 
fell  again  behind. 

"'Look  here,  old  chap/  shouted  the  sergeant,  punching 
him  in  the  back,  'if  you  don't  stir  your  stumps,  you'll  be 
taken  prisoner.' 

"The  poor  fellow  turned  a  sallow  face,  full  of  patient 
suffering,  toward  his  captain  (from  whom  I  have  the 
story),  and  said  :  l  Cap'n,  I'll  be  d d  if  I  ever  love  an- 
other country.' 

"  Now,  fellow  citizens,  that's  exactly  my  case.  That  man 
spoke  out  of  my  heart — and  out  of  every  loyal  man's  heart. 
Though  never  put  to  so  severe  a  test  as  he,  I  yet  exclaim 
with  him,  Til  be  d d  if  I  ever  love  another  country.'" 

The  transition  from  this  to  a  stirring  patriotic  harangue 
and  a  scathing  indictment  of  the  Democrats,  who,  the 
speaker  contended,  did  not  love  a  united  but  a  disunited 
country,  was  quite  easy.  Horace  was  himself  aware  that 
he  was  perverting  the  meaning  and  point  of  his  anecdote  ; 
for  the  old  soldier  of  whom  he  had  spoken  had  evidently 
intended  to  imply  that  his  love  of  country  had  gotten  him 
into  a  bad  box  ;  but  there  was  no  one  present  who  was 
subtle  enough  to  make  such  a  discrimination.  And,  more- 
over, Horace  gave  them  no  time  to  be  critical  ;  feeling 
that  his  career  was  at  stake,  he  fairly  surpassed  himself  in 
stirring  and  impassioned  rhetoric.  He  lifted  the  people 
off  their  feet,  and  made  them  wild  with  bellicose  enthusi- 
asm. When,  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  he  sat  down,  smil- 
ing and  perspiring,  the  managers  thronged  about  him  and 
obsequiously  pressed  his  hands,  the  crowd  cheered  him, 
stamped  with  their  feet,  and  pounded  the  floor  with  canes 
and  umbrellas.  It  was  a  triumph  indeed,  in  spite  of  the 
demoralizing  rubber. 

The  second  result  of  Aleck's  departure  was  scarcely  less 
important  than  the  first.  Gertrude,  having  already  inflicted 
upon  him  the  pain  which  she  had  wished  to  spare  him,  saw 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

no  further  reason  for  keeping  her  engagement  secret. 
She  accordingly  released  the  doctor  from  his  promise, 
and  advised  him  to  seek  an  official  interview  with  her 
father.  The  doctor  professed  great  satisfaction  at  this  ar- 
rangement ;  but  was,  nevertheless,  not  quite  so  delighted 
as  he  wished  to  appear.  The  fact  was,  he  had  no  stomach  for 
an  interview  with  the  old  man.  He  knew  that  the  Honora- 
ble Obed  was  a  stranger  to  polite  circumlocutions.  He  was 
not  apt  to  lose  his  temper,  but  he  had  a  way  of  hitting 
hard,  without  being  in  the  least  agitated.  Hawk  shrank 
from  an  encounter  with  his  brutal  sincerity  ;  and  deter- 
mined, by  way  of  testing  his  disposition  toward  him,  first 
to  divulge  his  secret  tentatively  to  Horace.  The  incident 
with  the  will  made  him  feel  sheepish  and  awkward  ;  for, 
of  course,  he  knew  that  Mr.  Larkin  would  attribute  un- 
worthy motives  to  his  wooing,  and  tell  him  squarely  to  his 
face  that  he  was  a  speculating  fortune-hunter,  if  not  some- 
thing worse. 

It  was  the  day  after  the  ratification  meeting  that  he 
dropped  into  the  office  on  Main  Street,  where  he  found 
Horace,  sitting  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  dictating  letters  to  his 
clerk.  He  looked  up  interrogatively  as  the  doctor  entered, 
and  responded  to  his  greeting  with  a  careless  nod. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  doctor?"  he  in- 
quired, coolly. 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  know  that  there  is,"  Hawk  replied,  in 
a  tone  of  good  comradeship,  "but  I  tell  you  what,  old 
fellow,  that  was  a  magnificent  speech  you  made  last  night. 
You  struck  just  the  right  note.  I  was  completely  carried 
away  with  it.  I  just  thought  I'd  drop  in  and  congratulate 
you  on  your  triumph." 

He  was  quite  effusive,  and  in  spite  of  the  lawyer's  un- 
responsiveness,  insisted  upon  grabbing  his  hand.  As  soon 
as  he  hag!  released  this  member,  Horace,  with  an  exagger- 
ated effort,  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  hauled  out  his  pocket- 
book. 

"Well,"  he  said,  gravely,  "let  us  have  it.  What  is  it 
you  want?  Do  you  want  to  borrow  money?" 

Hawk,  though  his  impulse  was  to  take  offence,  smiled 
faintly  at  this  grim  joke,  and  exclaimed  with  forced  hi- 
larity : 

"You  are  an  incorrigible  wag  ;  but  really,  this  time,  I 
want  to  see  you  about  something,  though  it  isn't  money." 

He  always  felt  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  presence  of  this 
man,  whose  cool  insolence  irritated  and  outraged  him. 


234  THE  MAMMON' 

Whatever  he  said  appeared  silly  to  him,  the  moment  he 
had  uttered  it  ;  and  in  order  to  correct  it,  he  was  apt  to 
say  something  still  sillier.  He  was  like  an  actor  who  can 
only  play  well  to  a  sympathetic  audience.  But  he  could 
not  aftord  to  show  his  pique,  when  so  much  was  at  stake, 
and  therefore  concealed  his  ill-temper  under  a  cloak  of 
ostentatious  good  fellowship. 

"  You  may  go  to  your  lunch,  Lawson,"  said  Horace  to 
his  clerk  ;  "I  shall  want  you  back  in  an  hour." 

The  clerk  rolled  up  his  papers,  and  took  his  leave. 

"  Well,  doctor,"  the  lawyer  remarked,  seating  himself 
at  his  desk,  and  rummaging  among  his  letters,  "  is  it  a 
divorce  you  want,  or  is  it  only  a  breach  of  promise  suit  ?" 

"  It  is  neither,"  Hawk  replied  with  an  uncomfortable 
laugh,  "  it  is,  in  fact,  exactly  the  opposite." 

"Then  you  had  better  go  to  the  parson,  I  am  a  justice 
of  the  peace,  to  be  sure,  but  I  have  never  yet  tied  the 
nuptial  knot." 

"Now,  don't  make  it  so  deucedly  hard  for  a  fellow. 
You  may  have  noticed,  perhaps — or  perhaps  you  have  not 
— that  I  have  been  very  much  devoted  to  your  cousin, 
Miss  Gertrude." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have  noticed  that  you  have  had  something 
going  on  in  that  line,  since  you  witnessed  my  uncle's 
will." 

"  Now  that's  rather  more  than  I  can  stand,  Mr.  Larkin. 
I  assure  you,  I  have  loved  her  for  years " 

"  Yes,  but  you  only  found  it  out  after  you  got  that 
squint  at  the  will.  However,  I  don't  blame  you.  A 
couple  of  hundred  thousand  is  apt  to  make  a  girl  par- 
ticularly lovable." 

The  doctor  bit  his  lip,  and  turned  red  with  anger. 
Horace  sat  imperturbably,  with  his  back  to  him,  still  rum- 
maging among  his  papers.  After  a  while,  he  struck  a 
match  on  the  sole  of  his  boot  and  lighted  one  of  his  strong 
black  weeds. 

"You  don't  seem  anxious  to  congratulate  me,"  Hawk 
resumed,  after  a  pause  ;  "  I  should  think  you  might  be  a 
little  pleasanter,  considering  that  we  are  to  be  relatives." 

Horace  smoked  for  some  minutes  in  silence.  Then  he 
wheeled  round  in  his  chair  and  said,  with  harsh  emphasis  : 
"You  ought  to  congratulate  yourself  that  I  don't  kick 
you." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said  after  that  ;  and  the  dis- 
comfited doctor,  with  a  sickly  smile,  which  was  meant  to 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

express  pitying  superiority,  moved  slowly  toward  the 
door,  stumbled  over  a  cuspidore,  and  betook  himself 
away. 

"Well,  for  cool  impudence,"  Horace  growled  to  him- 
self, "he  beats  the  Dutch."  Hawk's  conduct  seemed  so 
odious  to  him,  that  he  could  hardly  keep  from  swearing 
whenever  his  thoughts  recurred  to  it.  But  indeed  we  are 
fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  ;  it  did  not  once  occur  to 
him  that  he  was  himself  engaged  in  a  very  similar  enter- 
prise. 


236  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"A    BEAST    OF    PREY." 

The  interview  with  the  old  man,  the  anticipation  of  which 
had  caused  the  doctor  such  distress,  passed  off  rather  more 
easily  than  he  had  expected.  The  Honorable  Obed  treated 
the  matter  as  if  it  did  not  greatly  concern  him.  He  lis- 
tened to  all  the  doctor  had  to  say  with  a  non-committal 
expression,  as  if  it  were  a  business  proposition  the  profits 
of  which  he  regarded  as,  on  the  whole,  problematic.  That 
the  engagement  was  not  pleasing  to  him  was  obvious 
enough  ;  but  it  was  difficult  to  determine  just  how  much 
it  displeased  him.  He  recognized  his  daughter's  free 
agency  in  an  affair  of  this  sort  with  a  liberality  which  in 
a  man  of  his  self-willed  temper  was  quite  surprising. 
If  it  had  been  a  tutor  in  the  university  who  had  proposed 
to  marry  on  an  insufficient  income,  Mr.  Larkin  would  have 
imparted  his  advice  with  much  more  freedom  and  author- 
ity. His  daughter  was  such  an  enigmatical  creature, 
and  so  far  beyond  his  control,  that  he  saw  no  way  of 
opposing  her  with  success,  if  she  had  really  set  her  heart 
on  marrying  this  man.  He  was  accustomed  to  seeing  girls 
have  their  own  way  in  the  selection  of  husbands,  and  it 
did  not  seem  to  him  such  a  heinous  offence,  on  Gertrude's 
part,  that  she  wished  to  suit  herself  rather  than  him.  It 
was  not  until  he  had  discussed  the  engagement  with  his 
wife  that  he  began  to  suspect  that  he  had,  perhaps,  been 
too  easygoing  ;  but  as  he  had  then  already  given  a  quali- 
fied consent,  he  could  not  with  honor  withdraw  it.  Mrs. 
Larkin,  of  course,  was  of  a  different  opinion.  Her  hus- 
band's apathy  and  the  doctor's  foul  desertion  affected  her 
so  seriously  that  she  had  to  go  to  bed  and  make  the  house 
redolent  with  strong  medicines.  As  she  lay  in  her  bed 
with  her  large  plump  hands  on  her  breast,  and  groaned 
and  sighed  whenever  anyone  came  within  earshot,  she 
looked"  the  saintliest  and  most  abused  creature  in  the 
world. 

Mr.  Larkin  had  during  the  first  years  of  his  marriage 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2$? 

been  greatly  alarmed  by  these  sudden  and  unaccountable 
attacks.  But  experience  had  made  him  callous.  He  now 
took  them  very  coolly,  humored  his  wife's  whim  so  far  as 
to  inquire  two  or  three  times  as  to  her  condition,  but 
chuckled  at  her  "  capers,"  as  something  darkly  and  in- 
scrutably feminine,  which  men  have  got  to  put  up  with, 
even  though  they  did  not  profess  to  understand  it.  He 
was  inclined  to  regard  every  woman  as  a  bundle  of  such 
intricate  and  mysterious  peculiarities,  and  therefore  not  to 
be  taken  seriously,  but  humorously  petted  and  tolerated. 

The  November  elections  resulted,  as  had  been  expected, 
in  a  Republican  victory  ;  but  what  provoked  more  com- 
ment than  the  party  triumph  was  the  fact  that  Horace 
Larkin  ran  five  hundred  and  forty-eight  votes  ahead  of 
the  ticket.  Such  a  majority  in  a  closely  contested  As- 
sembly district  was  quite  phenomenal,  and  was  not  to  be 
legitimately  accounted  for.  Some  of  the  two  hundred 
and  thirty  Irishmen  who  had  happily  finished  their 
labors  in  Saginaw  just  in  time  to  come  home  and  vote, 
were  said  to  have  been  very  flush  during  the  week  preced- 
ing election  ;  and  a  number  of  others  who  had  not  been 
at  Saginaw  had  been  seen  calling  at  the  office  in  Main 
Street,  where  they  had  declared  that  they  were  undecided 
as  to  whom  they  would  support  for  the  Assembly,  and  had 
a  score  of  friends  who  were  equally  undecided.  But 
their  indecision  had  in  a  mysterious  manner  changed  to 
enthusiasm,  and  the  Democratic  candidate,  who  had  walked 
in  the  procession  wearing  a  green  suit  on  St.  Patrick's 
day,  found  all  his  blandishments  futile,  and  declared  dis- 
consolately that  "  the  jig  was  up."  When  this  same  gentle- 
man took  a  leading  Hibernian  to  task  for  his  treachery, 
the  latter  indiscreetly  remarked  :  "  Yer  kin  ketch  more 
floies  wid  molasses  than  yer  kin  wid  vinegar."  . 

This  being  duly  commented  upon,  was  interpreted  to 
mean  that  Horace  Larkin  had  bribed  the  patriots  from 
the  Emerald  Isle.  But  no  admission  to  this  effect  could 
be  extracted  from  any  of  them. 

"Yer  couldn't  draw  a  dollar  from  him  with  a  derrick," 
one  of  the  visitors  at  the  office  asseverated. 

"Mebbe  yer  could  with  a  corruk-screw,"  observed 
another. 

"  No,  be  jabers.  He's  the  stiddiest  man  on  his  fate  and 
wid  his  toongue  whin  he's  dhroonk  as  I  iver  seed." 

"  Ah,  ye  shoot  yer  jaw  !  He  ain't  never  dhroonk  at  all, 
at  all,  He  only  lets  on  out  of  perliteness  to  yer,  when  ye 


238  THE  MAMMON 

be  boozy.  He's  as  cool  in  his  hed,  all  the  whoile,  as  a 
fresh  cowcumber." 

It  will  be  seen  from  these  remarks  that  Horace  had  ac- 
complished the  difficult  task  of  gaining  the  confidence  of 
"  the  laboring  man."  He  had,  like  other  candidates  for 
office,  visited  saloons,  treated  the  crowd,  thrown  five- 
dollar  bills  on  the  counter,  and  refused  to  take  change 
(for  such  practices  were  regarded  as  quite  proper  in  a 
politician),  but  nothing  more  serious  was  proved  against 
him.  This,  however,  did  not  account  for  his  exceptional 
majority  or  the  great  preponderance  which  he  instantly 
gained  in  political  counsels.  He  was  henceforth  a  power 
which  had  to  be  reckoned  with. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  day  after  the  election,  while 
all  these  rumors  were  buzzing  about  his  ears,  that  Horace 
betook  himself  to  the  parsonage  to  receive  the  congratula- 
tions of  his  fiancee.  He  had  necessarily  neglected  her 
somewhat  during  the  labors  and  the  excitement  of  the 
campaign,  and  he  thought  that  this  circumstance  accounted 
for  the  constrained  air  with  which  she  greeted  him.  Her 
father,  who  was  also  in  the  room,  received  him  with  rather 
superfluous  formality,  and  Horace  was  not  slow  to  per- 
ceive that  there  was  something  unusual  in  the  wind.  He 
was  too  secure  in  his  self-esteem  to  be  disquieted  by  any 
one's  disapprobation,  and  he  seated  himself  in  his  usual 
lounging  attitude  and  smiled  his  slow,  superior  smile, 
while  waiting  for  the  parson  to  take  him  to  task  for  his 
misdemeanors.  There  was  a  shaded  duplex  lamp  upon 
the  table  and  a  soft  suffusion  of  yellow  light  throughout 
the  room.  Round  about  the  walls  were  low  book-cases, 
with  strips  of  maroon  leather  along  the  shelves  containing 
theological  books  in  plain  black  cloth,  and  the  poets  and 
novelists  in  tree-calf  and  morocco.  There  was  an  air  of 
luxurious  comfort  and  refinement  about  the  appointments 
of  the  room  which  never  failed  to  impress  Horace  when- 
ever he  entered  it. 

Mr.  Robbins,  who  on  such  occasions  usually  betook 
himself  away  after  a  few  amiable  remarks  about  the 
weather,  showed  to-day  no  inclination  to  comply  with 
this  considerate  custom.  He  put  his  book  on  the  table, 
face  downward,  cleared  his  throat  two  or  three  times  and 
seemed  extremely  uncomfortable.  How  could  he— a  good- 
natured  elderly  gentleman — summon  courage  to  rebuke 
this  formidable  young  man,  with  his  massive  self-confidence 
and  his  pachydermatous  conscience.  If  he  were  only  a 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  239 

priest  of  God,  having  authority,  he  sighed,  as  so  often  be- 
fore, how  he  then  would  speak,  and  how  vanishing  would 
be  the  obstacles  which  now  towered  in  his  path  !  Yet  his 
sense  of  duty  would  not  permit  him  to  remain  silent  where 
his  child's  happiness  was  at  stake.  She  had  begged  him 
so  piteously  to  let  the  thing  pass  without  notice  ;  she 
had  wept  and  coaxed  and  caressed  him  ;  but  the  more  he 
thought  of  the  matter,  the  worse  it  looked,  and  the  more 
imperative  seemed  his  duty  to  speak. 

"  I  understand  you  have  been  elected,  Mr.  Larkin,"  he 
began  with  some  difficulty. 

44  Yes,"  said  Horace,  blandly  ;  "  I  am  quite  content." 

''And  are  you  sure  you  are  quite  satisfied  with  your- 
self, when  you — what  shall  I  say — when  you  review  your 
course  of  action  in  the  light  of  God's  word  and  your  own 
conscience  ?" 

Bella,  with  irrepressible  nervousness,  rose  from  her 
father's  side,  where  she  had  been  sitting,  and  dropped 
upon  a  foot-stool  close  to  the  chair  which  Horace  was 
occupying.  It  was  as  if  she  wished  to  throw  in  her  lot 
with  him — signify  her  allegiance  and  mitigate  the  effect 
of  her  father's  words. 

"Running  five  hundred  and  forty-eight  votes  ahead  of 
your  ticket  reconciles  one  to  a  good  many  things,"  said 
Horace,  quietly. 

This  answer  for  some  reason  irritated  Mr.  Robbins. 

"  Does  it  also  reconcile  you  to  eternal  damnation  ?  "  he 
cried,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Why,  papa,  what  are  you  saying  ? "  exclaimed  Bella, 
frightened,  and  drew  still  closer  up  to  Horace,  leaning  on 
the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  fondling  his  hand. 

"  Hold  on,  parson,"  the  latter  ejaculated,  laughing. 
"  Eternal  damnation  !  Isn't  that  rather  rushing  it  ? " 

"You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean,"  Mr.  Robbins 
replied,  in  a  calmer  tone  ;  "you  have  done  things  in  this 
campaign  which  no  man  can  do  without  imperilling  his 
soul's  salvation." 

"  Well,  I'll  take  the  risk, "said  Horace,  with  an  emphasis, 
as  if  he  meant  that  to  be  final,  and  wished  the  discussion 
closed. 

"  Great  God,  man,  if  you  knew  how  blasphemously  you 
speak,  "  cried  the  parson  with  sudden  vehemence. 

The  young  man  squared  himself  in  his  chair,  leaned 
forward  and  glanced  up  at  the  clergyman  with  a  combat- 
ive light  in  his  gray  eyes. 


240  THE  MAMMON 

"Couldn't  I  demolish  you — couldn't  I  grind  you  to  dust, 
if  I  thought  it  worth  while  ! "  that  glance  seemed  to  say. 
But  there  was  no  trace  of  excitement  in  his  manner  as  he 
asked  : 

"  Parson,  have  you  read  the  parable  of  the  unjust  stew- 
ard?" 

The  query  came  so  unexpected  that  Mr.  Robbins  scarce- 
ly knew  what  to  answer. 

"I  presume  you  have,"  Horace  continued;  "  and  you 
remember  how  the  Lord  commended  him  for  cheating  his 
master  and  giving  a  ruinous  discount  to  his  debtors." 

"  That  does  not  mean  that  he  approved  of  him,"  Mr. 
Robbins  protested. 

"  What  does  it  mean,  then  ?  " 

"It  means  that  the  Lord  wished  to  impress  upon  the 
children  of  light  the  necessity  of  employing  as  much  energy 
and  ingenuity  in  well-doing  as  the  children  of  darkness 
employ  in  ill-doing." 

"  That  is,  in  my  opinion,  rather  a  far-fetched  interpre- 
tation. The  whole  gist  of  the  parable  is  contained  in 
these  words  :  'Make  ye  therefore  friends  of  the  mammon 
of  unrighteousness.'  " 

"  And  so  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  scriptural  war- 
rant for  going  into  low  saloons,  drinking  with  all  sorts  of 
rowdies,  flinging  ten-dollar  bills  on  the  counter  and  de- 
clining to  take  change?" 

"  Now,  papa,  how  can  you  speak  that  way  to  Horace  ?" 
Bella  broke  in  impetuously.  "  I  am  sure  he  never  did 
any  of  those  things." 

Horace  shot  her  a  sidelong  glance  in  which  there  was 
a  gleam  of  compassion. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  he  said. 

"  There  !  Do  you  hear  that  ? "  cried  Mr.  Robbins, 
eagerly  ;  "  he  is  not  ashamed  of  what  he  has  done.  He's 
proud  of  it." 

"Oh,  yes,"  drawled  the  delinquent,  "he's  not  a  bit  re- 
pentant." 

"And  you  think  it  is  honorable  for  a  man  of  your 
standing  to  indulge  in  such  practices?  Have  you  con- 
sidered that  the  name  you  bear  is  before  long  to  be  my 
daughter's  name,  and  that  it  is  a  matter  of  some  impor- 
tance both  to  me  and  to  her  if  you  choose  to  put  a  stain 
upon  it." 

There  was  an  anxious  stillness  in  the  room,  broken  only 
by  the  low  humming  of  the  lamp  and  Bella's  staccato 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  241 

breathing.     Horace's  face  grew  hard,  and  his  eyes  had  a 
cold,  pinched  look. 

"  Mr.  Robbins,"  he  said,  in  a  harsh,  incisive  voice,  "you 
have  assumed  more  authority  over  me  than  I  can  possibly 
accord  to  you.  If  my  actions  throw  discredit  upon  your- 
self or  your  daughter,  it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  release 
you  both  from  your  obligation  to  me.  Good-evening." 

He  had  risen,  with  lips  tightly  shut,  and  stood  buttoning 
his  coat  with  an  air  of  defiant  resolution.  There  came  a 
low  wail,  followed  by  convulsive  weeping,  from  the  carpet 
upon  which  Bella  was  seated. 

"  Oh,  Horace,  do  not  leave  me,  do  not  go  away  !  "  she 
sobbed,  flinging  her  arms  about  his  feet  and  clinging  to 
them. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  stooping  and  releasing  himself  from 
her  passionate  embrace  ;  "  I  am  sorry  to  hurt  you,  but  we 
must  part.  There  is  no  help  for  it." 

He  passed  out  through  the  door,  but  heard,  with  an  ir- 
repressible heartache,  how  she  called  his  name  with  a 
touching  irrational  persistence  ;  how  she  wept  with  a  sore, 
heart-broken  grief,  and  how  her  father's  voice  was  trying 
to  soothe  her.  He  remained  for  a  while  standing  on  the 
sidewalk,  listening  ;  and  every  time  he  heard  his  name  called 
in  that  shrilly  jarring,  piteous  note  (as  of  a  voice  that  had 
tired  itself  out  crying)  his  resolution  received  a  shock,  and 
he  could  scarcely  keep  from  going  back  and  doing  pen- 
ance. The  friendly  yellow  light  streamed  out  through  the 
chinks  in  the  shutters,  and  seemed  to  beckon  him  back. 
He  had  done  this  ;  he  had  inflicted  this  cruel  pain  ;  and 
in  spite  of  the  opportune  excuse,  there  was  no  use  deny- 
ing that  he  had  done  it  deliberately.  He  was  not  proud 
of  himself  now,  but  there  was  a  sub-consciousness  in  the 
midst  of  his  self-reproach  that  the  end  was  worth  the  sac- 
rifice. He  was  a  beast  of  prey,  asserting  his  right  of  sur- 
vival ;  nothing  more.  If  he  succumbed  to  sentiment  (and 
it  is  far  easier  to  succumb  to  it  than  to  resist  it)  he  would 
merely  be  eliminating  himself  from  the  battle  of  existence 
as  a  potent  and  considerable  force,  and  consigning  himself 
to  the  rear  ranks.  And  he  felt  in  every  fibre  of  his  being 
that  he  was  born  for  leadership. 

He  sauntered  slowly  through  the  damp  and  cloudy 
November  night,  pondering  the  deep  problem  of  exist- 
ence. 

16 


242  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

A   DISMANTLED    IDEAL. 

The  departure  of  Horace  for  Albany  at  the  opening  of 
the  new  year  was  a  great  relief  to  Gertrude  and  Hawk. 
The  latter,  who  had  found  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy  an 
excuse  for  the  most  eccentric  behavior,  would  have  tired 
the  affections  of  any  woman  less  heroically  devoted  than 
Gertrude.  In  return,  to  be  sure,  she  had  tired  him  by 
making  him  sit  for  a  bust  which  she  never  could  finish  to 
her  satisfaction.  Now  it  was  the  nose  that  was  wrong. 
Now  it  was  the  mouth,  or  the  ears,  which  always  had  a 
look  as  if  they  did  not  belong  to  the  head,  but  had  been 
stuck  on  as  an  afterthought ;  but  the  chief  difficulty  was 
with  the  eyes,  which  refused  to  look  straight,  and  moreover 
were  surrounded  by  unaccountable  swellings,  suggesting 
sties  and  bumps.  If  the  original  had  been  making  a  night 
of  it  and  had  come  home  in  a  demoralized  condition,  he 
might  have  looked  somewhat  as  the  unskilful  hands  of 
hisfiancJe  had  represented  him. 

It  was  a  great  humiliation  to  Gertrude  when  she  had  to 
abandon  this  cherished  work,  which  she  had  begun  with 
so  much  enthusiasm.  She  could  not  bear  to  destroy  it  by 
a  well-aimed  stab  or  blow  ;  for  it  had  enough  likeness  to 
the  doctor  to  make  her  shrink  from  doing  it  an  injury. 
But  she  put  it  away  in  a  closet  where  it  gradually  cracked 
and  fell  to  pieces. 

This  calamity  had  scarcely  released  its  hold  on  Ger- 
trude's mind  when  an  incident  occurred  which  gave  her 
much  more  serious  cause  for  disquietude.  She  received  a 
long  letter  from  her  mother,  without  date,  but  post-marked 
New  York.  It  was  a  most  distressing  letter,  filled  with 
complaints  and  accusations  against  Mr.  Larkin,  and  adju- 
rations to  Gertrude  to  come  to  her  at  once,  as  she  wished 
to  see  her  only  child  before  she  died.  She  gave  a  pitiful 
description  of  her  condition,  cold  and  starving  in  a  filthy 
tenement-house,  where  the  snow  blew  in  through  the  bro- 
ken window-panes,  and  rats  infested  the  rooms  and  even 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  243 

the  beds,  and  made  it  dangerous  to  go  to  sleep.  She  be- 
sought and  entreated  Gertrude  not  to  delay  her  coming, 
as  she  had  an  important  secret  to  confide  to  her  which  she 
could  not  possibly  impart  to  any  one  else.  There  were 
tear-stains  on  the  soiled  paper,  and  the  handwriting,  which 
was  large  and  scrawling,  reeled  along  the  sloping  lines 
with  a  drunken  unsteadiness.  The  style,  too,  was  ramb- 
ling and  incoherent;  but  here  and  there  were  phrases 
which  had  a  singular  pathos  in  them,  and  seemed  to  voice 
a  genuine  distress. 

Gertrude  was  wrought  up,  by  the  reading  of  this  letter, 
into  a  state  of  great  agitation.  The  fact  that  it  was  her 
mother  who  appealed  to  her  thus  invested  every  word 
with  a  strange  urgency  and  moving  power.  She  could 
not  reason  coolly  that  this  mother  was  the  slave  of  a  de- 
basing habit,  and  utterly  unworthy  of  confidence.  The 
opium  habit  was  to  her  merely  a  \vord  with  a  dimly  omi- 
nous significance  ;  but  she  knew  nothing  of  its  ruinous  effect 
upon  body  and  mind.  It  was  her  mother  who  was  calling 
upon  her  in  her  need,  destitute  and  dying — how  could  she, 
then,  decline  to  listen  ?  Her  conscience  pricked  her,  too, 
when  she  thought  of  the  coolness  of  her  demeanor,  how 
incredulous  she  had  been,  and  ill  at  ease  during  their  first 
meeting.  She  had  fully  made  up  her  mind  as  to  her  course 
of  action  when  she  went  to  her  father  and  begged  leave  to 
read  the  letter  to  him.  He  was  sitting  at  his  desk  in  the 
library,  looking  over  some  accounts  which  Horace  had 
submitted  for  his  inspection. 

"Who  did  you  say  your  letter  was  from?"  he  asked, 
looking  at  her  over  his  spectacles  with  a  preoccupied  air. 

11  From  my  mother,"  she  answered  with  tremulous  insist- 
ence ;  "  from  rny  mother  in  New  York." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  pushed  his  spectacles  up  on 
his  forehead,  and  stared  at  her  with  vaguely  troubled  eyes. 

"  I  thought  you  promised  me,  darter,  not  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  that  woman,"  he  said,  with  quiet  remon- 
strance. 

"  So  I  did,  father.  But  you  surely  wouldn't  want  me  to 
desert  her  now,  when  she  is  in  want  and  dying." 

"You  mean  lying,"  he  suggested,  gravely. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  unjust,  father  ?  If  you  would  only 
read  her  letter  you  would  soon  be  convinced  that  it  is 
true,  every  word  of  it." 

"  No,  I  won't.  I  wouldn't  touch  it  with  a  ten-foot 
pole." 


244  THE  MAMMON 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  could  be  so  prejudiced.'* 

He  slid  the  spectacles  down  on  his  nose  again  (they  were 
of  the  solid,  old-fashioned,  silver-bowed  kind)  and  began 
to  turn  over  his  papers  with  an  absent-minded  air.  She 
received  suddenly  the  impression,  which  she  had  had  once 
before,  that  there  was  something  lonely  and  pathetic  about 
him,  in  spite  of  his  wealth,  his  self-sufficiency,  and  his 
commanding  position.  For  all  that,  she  could  not  help  re- 
senting his  air  of  dismissal,  as  he  resumed  his  occupation, 
appearing  to  ignore  her  presence. 

"  Won't  you  listen  to  me,  father  ?  "  she  asked,  helplessly. 

He  looked  up  again,  laid  away  his  pen  carefully,  and 
tilted  back  his  chair. 

"  I  want  you  to  throw  that  letter  into  the  fire,"  he  said, 
"and  keep  your  promises  better  hereafter." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  cruel  not  to  be  willing  to  listen." 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there.  You  just  do  as  I  tell 
you." 

"  But,  father,  won't  you  please  give  me  money  to  go  to 
New  York  and  see  her?"  cried  Gertrude,  with  tearful  en- 
treaty. "I  shall  be  back  again  soon,  and 'nobody  need 
know  it." 

"  If  you  go,"  he  said  huskily,  but  cleared  his  throat  to 
recover  his  voice — "  if  you  go,  you  won't  come  back  at 
all." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will,"  she  ejaculated,  reassuringly ;  "  I  should 
only  be  gone  for  a  few  days." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  he  retorted  with  surly  decision  ;  "  if 
you  go  to  see  that  woman,  I  don't  want  to  see  your  face 
again." 

It  dawned  upon  her  now  that  he  meant  to  throw  her 
off— to  forbid  her  return.  "  But  she  is  dying,  father," 
she  repeated,  pleadingly. 

"  Well,  it  is  the  most  useful  thing  she  could  do,"  he  re- 
plied, "  it  ain't  the  first  time  she  has  done  it." 

"  Not  the  first  time  she  has  died  ?" 

"  No,  it's  an  old  trick  of  hers." 

"  But  there  are  rats  in  her  room,  father." 

"  It  don't  surprise  me.  But  that'll  do  now,  darter,  I 
won't  hear  any  more  talk  of  that  sort.  And  I  thought 
better  of  you  than  to  break  your  word." 

"  Then  you  won't  let  me  go  ? " 

Mr.  Larkin  rose  with  cumbrous  deliberation  and 
walked  across  the  floor  to  where  his  daughter  was  sitting. 
She  remembered,  for  many  years  after,  the  look  of  pain 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  24$ 

about  his  firm  mouth,  as  he  came  toward  her,  and  also  the 
loud  creaking  of  his  boots. 

"Throw  that  letter  into  the  fire,"  he  commanded, 
harshly. 

But  his  own  spirit  flared  up  within  her  in  response  to 
his  voice,  and  she  answered  : 

"  I  won't." 

"  Will  you,  or  will  you  not  throw  that  letter  into  the 
fire  ?"  he  repeated,  with  a  sudden  ominous  gentleness. 

"  I  will  not." 

They  stood  face  to  face,  she  with  large  excited  eyes, 
quivering  lips,  and  distended  nostrils,  the  picture  of  gen- 
erous youthful  indignation  ;  he  calm  and  resolute,  with 
the  hard  lines  about  his  mouth  somewhat  strained,  and 
his  lips  tightly  shut. 

"  Do  you  know,  darter,  that  you  are  cutting  yourself 
off  from  house  and  home  ? "  he  asked,  with  grave  delibera- 
tion. 

"Yes,  I  do  ;  but  I  wouldn't  do  a  mean  and  cowardly  act 
for  anybody." 

There  were  tears  in  her  voice,  and  her  eyes  were  slowly 
overflowing. 

"  I  don't  want  to  take  you  at  your  word,  I  want  you  to 
go  and  think  of  it.  But  don't  you  forget  this  ;  if  you  break 
your  promise  to  me — if  you  choose  her  rather  than  me — 
you  can't  come  back  again  and  say  you  made  a  mistake. 
You've  got  to  stand  by  your  choice  and  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

He  spoke  harshly,  and  without  apparent  emotion  ; 
neither  his  voice  nor  his  language  ever  rose  above  the 
plainest  prose  ;  but  the  effort  with  which  he  thrust  forth 
his  words  showed  how  difficult  he  found  them  to  utter. 
He  did  not  wait  to  watch  the  effect  of  his  warning,  but 
turned  his  back  upon  Gertrude  and  walked  out  of  the 
room.  He  knew  how  easily  girls  lost  their  self-control 
when  contradicted  ;  and  he  hoped  that  his  daughter's 
sound  sense  would  assert  itself  when  her  reason  was 
left  to  speak,  uninfluenced  by  her  pugnacity.  But  un- 
happily there  was  one  element  in  Gertrude's  character 
which  he  did  not  take  into  consideration,  viz.,  her  con- 
tempt for  sordid  prudence  and  a  romantic  yearning  to  raise 
| herself  above  the  humdrum  reality  by  some  great  act  of 
devotion  and  self-sacrifice.  There  was  a  youthful  sympa- 
thy with  rebellion  in  her  heart,  and  quite  apart  from  per- 
sonal considerations  it  seemed  to  her  a  fine  thing  to  defy 


246  THE  MAMMON 

paternal  authority  in  the  interest  of  a  wronged  and  down- 
trodden creature,  who,  moreover,  was  bound  to  her  by  the 
most  sacred  ties  of  blood.  The  innumerable  novels  she 
had  read  were  unanimous  on  this  point,  that  the  great 
herd  of  humanity  (and  fathers  in  particular)  were  in- 
fluenced by  the  meanest  motives,  and  that  it  was  only  a 
few  heroic  souls  who  possessed  the  strength  and  exalta- 
tion of  character  to  emancipate  themselves  from  this  gal- 
ling yoke  of  Mammon.  She  meant  to  prove  herself  to 
be  one  of  these  rare,  heroic  beings  ;  and  here  was  her 
grand  opportunity,  which,  if  she  let  it  pass,  might  never 
more  return. 

It  was  a  glorious  thing  now  that  she  knew  a  kindred 
spirit  who  would  value  and  understand  her  reasonings, 
and  support  her  in  her  lofty  resolution.  She  could  not 
wait  for  the  evening,  when  Hawk  was  in  the  habit  of  call- 
ing, but  rushed  out  of  the  room,  put  on  her  hat  and  jacket, 
and  walked  rapidly  up  the  street  toward  his  office.  There 
were  invisible  wings  on  her  feet  ;  she  was  borne  along  by 
some  strong  impelling  force,  independent  of  her  own  voli- 
tion. She  paused  for  breath  at  the  gate  which  led  to  the 
white-painted  frame  house  where  the  doctor  had  his  domi- 
cile. It  was  in  a  quiet  side-street,  and  had  a  small  garden 
in  front  fringed  with  blackened  stalks  of  hollyhocks  and 
sun-flowers.  On  the  door  there  was  a  well- polished  brass 
plate  exhibiting  the  inscription:  Archibald  Hawk,  M.D. 
There  was  an  air  of  stillness  and  seclusion  about  the  place, 
and  it  was  intensified  by  green  paper  shades  which  covered 
windows  and  sidelights,  imparting  to  them  a  peculiarly 
solemn  and  unresponsive  stare.  Gertrude  pulled  the  little 
glass  bell-handle  and  heard  a  shrill  jingle  within.  A  pretty 
maid  with  rosy  cheeks  opened  the  door,  and  asked  her  to 
be  seated  in  the  waiting-room.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes, 
which  seemed  to  Gertrude  a  small  eternity,  the  doctor 
made  his  appearance,  and  with  a  sad  and  somewhat 
strained  smile  of  welcome  conducted  her  into  his  private 
library.  The  first  sight  which  met  her  here  was  a  skeleton, 
whose  fleshless  skull  was  adorned  with  a  tall  silk  hat,  and 
with  a  half-smoked  cigar  stuck  between  its  teeth.  The  floor 
was  of  hard  wood,  and  covered  with  rich  Oriental  rugs. 
On  the  walls  were  etchings  and  engravings,  all  good,  some 
striking,  and  arranged  helter-skelter,  but  with  excellent 
artistic  effect.  A  voluptuous  Oriental  fancy  was  traceable 
through  all  of  them.  There  were  beautiful  women  emerg- 
ing from  the  bath,  or  shivering  on  the  edge  of  marble 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  247 

basins,  before  taking  the  plunge.  There  were  allegorical 
ladies  with  splendid  busts  and  shoulders,  whom  the  pain- 
ters, as  an  excuse  for  their  nudity,  had  dubbed  "  Truth," 
"  Innocence,"  "  Charity,"  etc.  But  these  were  only  for 
the  delectation  of  their  owner  and  that  of  cherished  friends 
who  could  be  trusted  not  to  take  offence.  As  such  were 
few  and  far  between  in  Torryville,  the  busts  were  usually 
hidden  by  a  tawny  silk  curtain,  which  could  be  made  to  fall 
apart,  as  if  by  magic,  by  pulling  a  cord. 

"Well,  dolcinella"  the  doctor  exclaimed,  with  forced 
gayety,  tossing  his  Hamlet  lock  back  from  his  forehead, 
"to  what  happy  circumstance  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  your 
visit?" 

"  It  is  not  a  happy,  but  an  unhappy  circumstance," 
Gertrude  replied.  "  I  want  you  to  advise  me,  and  I  have 
no  one  to  go  to  but  you." 

"  Poverina  !  They  have  been  bad  to  you  at  home  ;  have 
they?" 

"  No  ;  it  is  something  much  more  serious.  It  is  some- 
thing— which — which  may  change  my  life  entirely." 

"  Poveretta  !  "  sighed  the  doctor. 

He  had  been  reading,  by  way  of  exercise,  Manzoni's  "  I 
Promessi  Sposi  "  during  the  morning,  and  had  been  struck 
with  the  beauty  and  richness  of  the  endearing  terms  in  the 
Italian  language.  But  to  Gertrude,  who  was  inwardly 
quivering  with  agitation,  this  experimental  application  of 
a  foreign  tongue  was  distasteful.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
he  was  trifling  with  her.  He  was  so  preoccupied  with  him- 
self and  the  effect  he  was  producing,  that  he  failed  to  de- 
tect the  note  of  distress  in  her  voice.  She  felt  rebuffed, 
and  with  the  impulsiveness  of  a  high-strung  nature,  rose 
and  moved  toward  the  door.  Perceiving  that  he  had 
offended  her,  he  stepped  forward,  put  his  back  against 
the  door  and  said  : 

"  Not  yet,  dearest.  Tell  me  what  is  the  matter.  What- 
ever I  can  do  for  you,  I'll  do  with  all  my  heart." 

There  was  yet  a  lack  of  sincerity  in  his  voice  ;  but  she 
forced  herself  to  believe  that  she  was  perhaps  too  exacting. 

"  I  have  received  a  letter  from  my  mother,"  she  said 
hurriedly,  in  order  to  keep  from  breaking  down  ;  "  she 
wants  me  to  come  to  her." 

Hawk  stroked  his  silky  beard  and  looked  with  a  pensive 
frown  toward  the  ceiling. 

"  What  does  your  father  say  about  it  ?  "  he  asked  guard- 
edly. 


248  THE  MA  MM  OX 

"He  says  that,  if  I  go,  I  shall  never  come  back." 

"  Hem  !    That  looks  bad.    What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  came  to  ask  you  about.  You  know,  my 
mother  is  ill  and  dying.  •  She  has  no  money  ;  and  she  has 
to  live  in  a  wretched  tenement-house  where  there  are  rats 
and  no  end  of  dreadful  things." 

The  wholly  unmoved  air  with  which  he  listened  to  this 
passionate  recital,  filled  her  with  dismay.  She  could  not 
persuade  herself  that  she  was  fully  awake  ;  there  was  some 
horrible  mistake  somewhere.  It  could  not  be  possible 
that  he  denied  her  his  sympathy.  Aleck's  words  :  "  He 
will  fail  you  when  you  need  him  most,"  recurred  to  her  ; 
and  the  more  she  strove  to  rid  herself  of  them,  the  more 
persistently  they  rang  in  her  ears.  She  followed  him  witli 
her  eyes,  while  he  sauntered  across  the  floor,  stopped  to 
arrange  a  bit  of  drapery,  or  to  straighten  a  picture  which 
hung  crooked.  She  noted  how  handsome  he  looked  with 
his  dark  hair  and  beard,  his  fine  nose  and  his  rich  olive 
complexion  ;  but  she  noted,  too,  a  certain  constraint  in  his 
movements,  and  a  painful  indecision  in  his  face.  He  was 
carrying  on  a  mental  debate,  and  was  unwilling  to  commit 
himself  before  he  had  reached  a  conclusion.  She  more 
than  suspected,  in  this  moment,  that  he  was  influenced 
only  by  considerations  of  prudence  ;  but  she  could  not 
afford  to  have  her  beautiful  faith  in  him  destroyed  ;  she 
wished  to  be  convinced  against  her  own  judgment  that  he 
was  what  she  had  believed  him  to  be.  She  yearned,  she 
panted — though  with  a  dismal  sinking  of  heart — to  have 
him  prove  himself  noble,  courageous,  and  true. 

"  Archie,"  she  began,  with  breathless  anxiety,  "  I  know 
it  must  be  difficult  for  you  to  put  yourself  in  my  position. 
I  don't  want  you  to  advise  me,  if  it  is  disagreeable  to  you. 
I  have  already  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do.  But  I  have 
hardly  any  money  ;  and  I  want  you  to  lend  me  fifty  dollars 
to  relieve  my  mother's  distress.  I  am  going  to  start  for 
New  York  to-night,  and  if — if — I  don't  come  back  again 
— I'll  write  to  you,  and  let  you  know  where  you  can  find 
me." 

He  had  stood  face  to  face  with  the  skeleton  while  she 
spoke,  staring  into  the  empty  sockets  which  had  once  con- 
tained its  eyes  ;  but  he  now  turned  abruptly  about,  and 
paused  in  front  of  her. 

"  Gertie,"  he  said  ;  "  may  I  ask  if  you  have  taken  leave 
of  your  senses?" 

"  Why,"  she  cried,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  249 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say,"  he  answered,  fiercely  ;  "  have 
you  gone  crazy  ?  " 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  in  speechless  dismay  ;  it  was 
as  if  he  had  removed  a  mask,  and  suddenly  showed  him- 
self as  he  was.  There  was  something  almost  brutal  in  his 
fixed  stare  and  in  the  pitiless  rigidity  of  his  mouth. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  crazy,  because  I  want  to  help  my 
mother?"  she  managed  to  stammer. 

"  But  you  told  me  yourself  that  she  is  an  opium-eater." 

"  But  she  is  my  mother." 

"  But  your  father — how  about  him  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  need  me.     He's  not  in  distress." 

"  But  ought  you  not  to  have  some  regard  for  yourself  ? 
What's  to  become  of  you,  if  he  throws  you  off?" 

"I  supposed,  in  either  case,  I  was  to  be  your  wife." 

This  was  apparently  an  unexpected  reply  to  the  doctor, 
for  he  was  visibly  taken  aback.  He  thrust  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  walked  across  the  floor  and  became  absorbed 
in  the  contemplation  of  "  La  Verite,"  the  one  of  his  god- 
desses to  whose  worship  he  was  least  addicted. 

"  If  you  are  to  be  my  wife,"  he  said,  turning  half  about, 
"  I  shall  have  to  insist  upon  obedience  to  my  wishes." 

"  Indeed.  And  in  the  present  case,  may  I  ask  what 
is  your  wish  ?  " 

A  note  of  sarcasm  stole  into  her  voice  and  a  sudden 
chill  into  her  manner.  For  the  word  obedience  is  to  the 
American  girl  what  the  red  rag  is  to  the  bull,  and  roused 
all  her  latent  ire. 

"  I  wish  you  to  go  home  and  do  as  your  father  tells 
.you,"  he  said,  angrily. 

"  And  if  I  don't  do  it,  what  then  ? " 

He  did  not  venture  to  say  :  "  Then  all  is  over  between 
us,"  for  he  saw  in  an  instant  what  consequences  that 
would  involve.  He  was  by  nature  given  to  shuffling,  and 
could  never  arrive  at  a  resolution,  except  after  infinite 
deliberation. 

"  I  should  deeply  deplore  your  waywardness,"  he  an- 
swered, recovering  his  sonorous  rhetorical  note. 

"And  you  will  not  lend  me  the  money  ?" 

"  I  should  offend  your  father,  don't  you  see  ?  And 
since  you  have  taken  it  into  your  head  to  offend  him,  it's 
much  better  that  I  should  keep  on  the  right  side  of  him. 
Then  there's,  at  all  events,  a  chance  of  things  coming  out 
right." 

There  flashed  forth  a  glimpse  of  a  paltry,   calculating 


2  SO  THE  MAMMON 

soul  in  this  speech,  and  it  filled  Gertrude  with  loathing. 
Was  it  possible  that  this  was  the  man  she  had  worshipped, 
idealized,  adored  ?  Was  it  conceivable  that  this  man 
whom,  in  her  blindness,  she  had  apotheosized  as  an  in- 
carnation of  all  perfections  could  be  possessed  of  a  spirit 
so  mean,  so  pitifully  unheroic  ?  She  could  not  at  once 
accept  such  a  conclusion.  She  must  subject  him  to  the 
test  once  more,  before  abandoning  her  faith  in  him  for- 
ever. 

"  Please  tell  me,"  she  asked  in  a  low  and  gentle  voice  ; 
"  will  you  or  will  you  not  lend  me  the  money  ?" 

"  I  will,  if  you  will  give  me  your  sacred  word  of  honor 
that  you'll  never  tell  your  father  about  it." 

She  rose  with  a  smile  of  unutterable  contempt,  and 
moved  toward  the  door.  She  had  no  idea  why  she  smiled, 
it  was,  probably,  as  the  alternative  to  weeping. 

"You  might  answer  at  least,"  he  muttered,  sulkily. 
"Will  you  promise?" 

"No,  Dr.  Hawk,  I  will  give  you  no  fresh  promise.  I 
want  you  to  release  me  from  one  which  I  have  given  you." 

"Now,  Gertie,  I  wish  you  would  be  rational." 

"  I  am  very  rational — now,"  she  said  in  a  strange,  sad, 
far-away  voice.  "  I  wish  you  would  not  speak  to  me. 
Good-by." 

He  was  enough  of  a  connoisseur  of  women  to  know  the 
futility  of  argument.  That  sudden  fainting  of  the  voice 
which  had  the  effect  of  sorrowful  tenderness,  was  rather 
the  expression  of  an  internal  tremulousness  which  with 
the  least  indulgence  would  have  sought  vent  in  tears. 
She  was  in  haste  to  be  gone  because  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  keep  herself  in  check  much  longer.  Oddly  enough, 
her  present  regret  was  not  for  him,  that  he  had  proved 
himself  unworthy,  but  for  all  the  beautiful  sentiment  she 
had  wasted  upon  him.  Her  pride  suffered  more  than  her 
love.  She  felt  humiliated — debased. 

Now  that  this  gorgeous  cloud-vision  had  faded  into 
clammy  vapor,  all  things  seemed  nauseous,  unstable.  It 
was  like  the  morning  after  the  feast,  when  the  rosy  dawn 
sends  its  first  rays  into  the  deserted  banqueting  hall.  The 
half-burned  candles — how  forlorn  they  look  !  The  crum- 
pled napkins,  the  half-dismantled  table,  the  empty  bottles, 
the  corks  strewn  about  the  floor,  the  smell  of  stale  cigar- 
smoke  !  All  that  was  beautiful  the  night  before  is  to-day 
doubly  distressing  because  of  its  lost  beauty. 

Without  appearing  to  notice  the  hand  which  the  doctor 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  251 

held  out  to  her,  Gertrude  opened  the  door  and  found  her 
way  into  the  street.  She  was  conscious  of  a  strange 
numbness  in  her  knees,  and  the  flag-stones  billowed  and 
gave  way  under  her  feet.  This,  then,  was  the  end  of  her 
dream.  She  had  lavished  her  heart's  best  affection  upon 
a  masquerading  mountebank.  She  had  invested  a  pictur- 
esque lay  figure  with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  heroism 
which  had  been  supplied  by  her  own  youthful  disordered 
imagination. 

She  hurried  down  the  sidewalk,  scarcely  knowing  where 
her  feet  were  carrying  her.  The  familiar  street,  flanked 
with  white  and  slate-colored  frame  houses,  surrounded 
by  garden-patches,  assumed  a  strangely  unfamiliar  look. 
The  sunlight  smote  upon  her  eyes  with  a  pitiless,  glaring 
insistance.  The  blood  surged  vaguely  in  her  ears  and 
throbbed  in  her  temples.  The  dead  leaves  rattled  about 
her  skirts,  and  she  dragged  a  dry  twig  along  without 
observing  it.  A  bird  darted  with  an  uneven  staccato 
motion  across  the  street  ;  and  her  capricious  fancy 
attached  itself  to  it,  following  it  on  and  on  into  the 
terrible  blue  infinity.  It  became  a  plague  and  a  night- 
mare, this  bobbing  bird — flashing  through  sunshine  and 
shadow,  untiring,  unresting,  like  an  insane,  sleepless 
thought,  that  detaches  itself  from  the  brain,  and  flies 
beyond  its  control. 

As  soon  as  she  arrived  home,  Gertrude  began  to  pack 
her  trunk,  in  a  dumfounded,  mechanical  way.  f  It  took 
her  a  couple  of  hours  to  get  her  dresses  and  other  neces- 
saries of  life  properly  disposed  within  the  circumscribed 
space ;  and  as  she  had  no  experience  to  guide  her,  she  had 
repeatedly  to  undo  her  work,  after  trying  impracticable 
experiments.  It  was  a  relief,  however,  to  be  compelled  to 
think  of  something  definite  and  tangible,  to  move  hands 
and  limbs,  and  knock  against  difficulties  which  challenged 
exertion.  She  emptied  her  pocket-book  on  the  table, 
and  found  that  she  had  about  $19.  This  would  more 
than  suffice  to  buy  her  ticket  ;  but  it  would  leave  her  little 
with  which  to  relieve  her  mother's  want.  But  there  was 
Aleck  !  He  was  in  New  York  and  she  knew  his  address. 
She  would  go  to  him  at  once  and  ask  his  aid.  He  would 
not  fail  her  ;  of  that  she  felt  confident.  His  blond,  gentle 
face  with  the  trusty,  dark-blue  eyes,  full  of  loyalty  and 
devotion,  rose  up  before  her  fancy,  and  it  calmed  and 
comforted  her  to  think  of  it.  She  would  see  Aleck  ;  she 
would  talk  with  him,  and  tell  him  of  her  position,  He 


252  THE  MAMMON 

would  not  stop  to  consider  the  risks  he  ran,  as  a  presump- 
tive heir  to  her  father's  money,  before  extending  to  her  his 
helping  hand.  The  more  she  dwelt  upon  this  thought  the 
more  eager  she  became  for  the  meeting  with  Aleck.  He 
assumed,  by  contrast,  all  the  virtues  which  she  had  failed 
to  find  in  Hawk.  He  had  warned  her  against  Hawk  ;  his 
own  true,  brave,  and  loyal  heart  had  felt  an  instinctive  aver- 
sion for  Hawk's  selfishness  and  cowardly  calculation. 
How  deluded  she  had  been!  How  wofully,  how  cruelly 
deluded  !  She  began  now  to  doubt  whether  she  had  ever 
loved  Hawk.  She  had,  indeed,  loved  a  grand  and  heroic 
soul,  disguised,  as  she  thought,  in  his  features  ;  but  having 
found  that  the  heroic  soul  was  not  there  her  devotion  had 
changed  to  indignation  ;  and  her  trust  to  revulsion  and 
outraged  dignity.  Ardent,  youthful,  and  innocent,  as  she 
was,  she  could  not  conceive  of  a  love  that  was  not  based 
upon  worship.  Having  discovered  that  Hawk  was  not 
worthy  of  her  worship,  she  concluded,  too,  that  he  was  not 
worthy  of  her  love.  Like  most  young  persons  she  was 
wholesomely  self-centred  ;  she  felt  sore,  outraged,  humili- 
ated ;  but  it  was  for  herself  she  was  sorry,  not  for  him. 

Having -finished  her  packing  she  sat  down  and  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  her  father  and  a  brief  curt  one  to  Hawk. 
In  the  former  she  begged  forgiveness  for  disregarding  his 
desire,  in  the  latter  she  broke  off  her  engagement.  At 
eleven  o'clock,  when  the  family  were  long  since  asleep, 
she  procured  a  cab  and  started  for  the  depot.  The  even- 
ing was  chilly  and  the  mists  were  creeping  up  from  the 
lake,  wrapping  the  hills  in  fleecy  winding-sheets.  She 
stopped  at  the  telegraph  office  and  sent  a  dispatch  to  Aleck, 
announcing  the  time  of  her  arrival.  The  cabman  checked 
her  trunk  for  her,  as  soon  as  she  had  bought  her  ticket, 
and  helped  her  aboard  the  car.  In  another  moment  the 
shrill  whistle  pierced  the  night,  and  with  rumbling  and 
clanking  of  metal  and  the  hissing  of  escaping  steam,  the 
train  glided  out  into  the  white  sea  of  mist. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2$3 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A   MOMENTOUS  DISCOVERY. 

The  train  arrived  in  Jersey  City  at  an  inconveniently  early 
hour  and  the  occupants  of  the  sleeping-cars  were  in  no 
hurry  to  plunge  out  into  the  chilly  morning.  They  made 
their  toilets  at  their  leisure,  submitted  to  unnecessary 
brushings  from  the  colored  porter,  and  departed  one  by 
one  as  the  impulse  prompted  them.  Gertrude,  who  had 
retired  with  the  expectation  of  spending  a  wakeful  night, 
was  half  ashamed  of  the  soundness  of  her  sleep.  She  had 
not  yet  arrived  at  the  age  when  grief,  like  the  carpenter 
in  Heine's  poem,  works  away  at  your  coffin  through  the 
long  nocturnal  vigils.  She  had  the  consoling  conscious- 
ness that  she  was  doing  a  fine  thing  in  burning  her  bridges 
behind  her  and  starting  out,  at  the  call  of  conscience,  to 
rescue  an  unfortunate  woman  from  misery.  This  dim 
sense  of  heroism  buoyed  her  up  and  made  her  sorrows  in- 
teresting and  therefore  easier  to  bear.  She  was  standing 
before  the  mirror  in  the  end  of  the  car  which  was  tempo- 
rarily reserved  for  the  ladies,  when  she  heard  some  one 
speaking  her  name.  She  recognized  instantly  Aleck's 
voice,  and  her  heart  gave  a  leap.  With  her  hair  yet  a 
trifle  dishevelled  she  rushed  into  a  narrow  passage-way 
which  connected  the  ladies'  toilet  compartment  with  the 
body  of  the  car,  ran  against  Aleck,  and  before  she  was 
aware  of  it,  she  had  kissed  him,  shed  a  few  tears,  laughed 
in  an  absurdly  confused  fashion,  and  blushed  to  the  tips 
of  her  ears.  Aleck,  too,  was  blushing,  and  laughing  and 
talking  joyous  confused  nonsense.  There  was  no  one  near, 
so  she  could  safely  hug  him  once  more,  and  cry  a  little,  and 
tell  him  how  delighted  she  was  to  see  his  dear,  good,  honest 
face.  He  had  raised  a  prententious  yellow  mustache 
since  she  saw  him  last,  and  she  pronounced  it  extremely 
becoming.  He  laughed  rather  sheepishly  at  this  and 
twirled  the  article  in  question  in  mock  acknowledgment 
of  the  compliment.  She  had  never  in  her  life  been  so 
happy  to  see  anybody  ;  and  she  had  never  known  anyone 


254  THE  MAMMON 

to  look  so  lovely  as  Aleck  looked  to  her  in  this  moment. 
She  was  not  alone  in  the  world  after  all ;  there  was  one 
whom  she  could  lean  upon ;  who  was  ready  to  bear  part  of 
her  burden. 

He  seated  himself  on  one  of  the  sofas  and  waited  while 
she  finished  her  toilet.  In  a  few  moments  she  returned, 
wearing  a  handsome  Gainsborough  hat  with  large  black 
feathers  and  a  tight-fitting  fawn-colored  jacket,  which  was 
simply  ravishing.  Her  fresh  girlish  face,  with  its  innocent 
seriousness  like  that  of  a  child,  its  frank,  wide  open  inex- 
perienced eyes,  and  its  expression  of  vague  expectancy 
seemed  to  Aleck  the  climax  of  all  that  was  fair  and  sweet 
and  lovable.  Her  absolute  trust  in  him  touched  him  as 
much  as  her  beauty  thrilled  and  intoxicated  him.  Had 
lie  not  loved  tier  patiently  and  hopelessly  as  far  back  as 
he  could  remember?  And  here  she  stood  before  him,  like 
a  young  goddess  sprung  from  the  wave  to  rescue  him  from 
despair  and  supply  a  new  incentive  to  his  paralyzed  ambi- 
tion. He  knew  nothing,  as  yet,  of-  the  rupture  of  her  re- 
lations with  the  doctor  ;  but  he  had  a  joyous  conviction 
that  his  prophecy  had  come  true  ;  that  she  had  found  out 
her  mistake  ;  that  Hawk  had  unmasked  himself  and  been 
consigned  to  perdition. 

The  first  opportunity  for  explanation  came  when  she 
handed  him  the  check  for  her  trunk,  and  asked  him  to  at- 
tend to  it. 

"Where  do  you  wish  it  sent  ?"  he  asked. 

She  paused  a  moment  before  answering. 

"  To  my  mother,"  she  said,  gravely. 

"Your    mother?"    inquired    Aleck,    wonderingly  ;    "I 
thought  your  mother  was  dead." 
No  ;  she  is  alive." 

'  And  do  you  know  her  ?     Have  you  seen  her  ? " 
Yes." 

1  And  you  never  told  me  about  it." 
;  No  ;  father  told  me  not  to." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  and  see  your  mother  first, 
before  sending  her  your  trunk.  I'll  keep  the  check,  and 
do  with  it  whatever  you  may  wish." 

They  walked  out  of  the  shabby,  barn-like  depot  and 
boarded  the  ferryboat.  Aleck  was  too  astonished  to  be 
communicative.  It  was  as  if  Gertrude  had  suddenly 
slipped  away  from  him  again,  just  as  he  had  her  so  de- 
liciously  near.  This  mysterious  kinship,  of  which  he  had 
never  heard  the  remotest  hint,  affected  him  unpleasantly. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  255 

He  could  not  quite  bring  himself  to  believe  in  it ;  nor  could 
he  entirely  disbelieve  in  it.  But  he  was  conscious  of  a 
dim  animosity  to  Gertrude's  mother,  whoever  and  what- 
ever she  might  prove  to  be.  Gertie  was  so  credulous  and 
romantic.  Was  it  not  possible  that  some  scheming  advent- 
uress had  imposed  upon  her  for  the  purpose  of  extorting 
money  from  Mr.  Larkin  ?  Aleck  determined  to  constitute 
himself  her  protector,  even  at  the  risk  of  displeasing  her. 

They  sat  for  some  moments  in  silence,  gazing  out  upon 
the  gray  pageantry  of  the  river,  until  the  seats,  which  in- 
sidiously concealed  the  steam-heating  apparatus,  grew  so 
uncomfortable  as  to  compel  them  to  rise.  They  made 
their  way  out  of  the  saloon,  and  came  near  losing  their 
balance,  as  the  ferryboat  bumped  against  the  tarred  board- 
fence  of  the  slip,  before  reaching  its  moorings. 

"  Where  does  your  mother  live  ?"  asked  Aleck,  quite 
en  passant^  as  they  passed  through  the  gate  of  the  ferry 
house  into  the  street. 

Gertrude  pulled  the  letter  from  her  pocket  and  showed 
him  the  address. 

'Do  you  want  to  go  there  now  ?" 
Yes." 

1  But  it  is  only  eight  o'clock." 
It  makes  no  difference." 

<  I  hope  you  do  not  object  to  my  going  with  you." 
No-o.     Oh,    no !     Only  it  is  a  poor  place,  Aleck,  a 
wretched   tenement-house,  with   rats   in   it,  that   crawl  all 
over  you.     And  you   mustn't  be   astonished   at  anything 
you  see." 

"  No,  I  won't." 

She  felt,  now  that  she  had  gotten  hold  of  him,  she  could 
not  bear  to  let  him  go  again.  She  did  not  contemplate  the 
meeting  with  her  mother  with  pleasurable  anticipations  ; 
nay,  all  sorts  of  vague  apprehensions  lingered  in  the  back- 
ground of  her  mind,  and  made  her  ill  at  ease. 

u  Hadn't  you  better  come  and  take  breakfast  with  me, 
before  you — go  visiting  ?  "  Aleck  inquired,  after  a  while, 
cautiously. 

"  But  would  that  be  proper  ?  " 

"  I  can  see  no  impropriety  in  it.  Emotional  scenes  on 
an  empty  stomach  are  doubly  trying.  Let  us  breakfast 
together  at  the  Brunswick  ;  then  you'll  be  fortified  against 
all  contingencies." 

"  But,  Aleck,  my  mother  is  starving." 

She  uttered  this  rather  impassivelv,  as  if  it  were  a  prop- 


256  THE  MAMMON 

osition  in  geometry,  or  a  moral  maxim,  which  made  no 
appeal  to  the  emotions. 

"  That's  no  reason  why  you  should  starve,"  said  Aleck, 
with  the  same  colorless  manner  ;  "  when  I  expect  to  have 
my  heart  wrung,  I  always  lay  in  a  solid  breakfast." 

She  was  glad  to  have  her  scruples  overridden,  and  with- 
out further  objection  mounted  the  platform  of  the  eleva- 
ted railroad  and  boarded  the  cars.  They  took  a  cab  at 
Twenty-third  Street  and  Sixth  Avenue,  and  were  driven  to 
the  fashionable  restaurant  with  the  frescoed  frieze  of  me- 
diaeval merrymakers,  dancing  through  the  golden  space. 
There  was  a  sense  of  adventure  about  the  whole  thing  to 
Gertrude  which  filled  her,  in  spite  of  her  apprehensions, 
with  a  subdued  joy.  She  had  still  momentary  doubts  as 
to  whether  she  was  entirely  awake.  To  sit  here  tete-a-t^tc 
with  Aleck,  whose  blue  eyes  beamed  upon  her  with  tender 
devotion  ;  to  feel  the  delicious  strangeness  of  everything 
that  met  her  eye — the  gorgeous  walls  and  ceiling,  the 
dainty  dishes,  the  exquisite  porcelain,  the  obsequious 
French  waiters,  and  the  rumbling  turmoil  of  the  avenue 
without — it  was  like  an  excursion  into  a  fairy-tale,  too 
charming  to  be  wholly  true.  She  ate,  with  a  kind  of  shame- 
faced appetite,  a  goodly  selection  of  what  was  on  the  bill 
of  fare  ;  the  French  names  tempted  her  to  try  things  which 
she  really  did  not  want ;  but  the  ride  across  the  river  and 
the  walk  from  the  ferry  had  created  a  ravenous  void  within 
her  which  took  no  account  of  sentimental  troubles. 

"  Do  get  up,  Aleck,"  she  said,  with  a  lugubrious  laugh, 
"and  send  that  dreadfully  suggestive  waiter  away,  or  I 
shall  eat  you  into  bankruptcy." 

Aleck  obeyed  without  coaxing,  though  not  from  sordid 
consideration  ;  paid  his  bill  in  a  radiant  humor,  and  started 
with  his  fair  cousin  in  the  direction  of  West  Sixty-fourth 
Street.  After  having  walked  a  couple  of  blocks,  carry- 
ing her  hand-satchel,  he  again  hailed  a  cab  and  they  soon 
found  themselves  in  the  neighborhood  indicated  in  Ger- 
tie's letter.  It  was  now  a  little  after  ten  o'clock,  and  the 
weather  had  cleared.  A  light  wintry  mist  still  hung  over 
the  park ;  but  the  sun  was  well  up  over  the  house-tops  on 
the  east  side,  and  illuminated  the  smoke  from  a  hundred 
chimneys  which  rose  straight  up  into  the  still  air. 

Aleck  and  Gertie  were  both  surprised  at  the  appearance 
of  the  house  before  which  the  cabman  stopped.  It  was  a 
large  and  neat-looking  apartment  house,  in  a  very  respect- 
able neighborhood,  and  could  not  by  any  license  of  speech 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

be  described  as  a  tenement,  far  less  as  a  wretched  hovel. 
Gertrude  pulled  out  her  letter  once  more  and  made  sure 
that  the  numbers  corresponded.  Unless  her  mother  had 
given  a  wrong  address,  there  could  be  no  room  for  doubt. 
She  entered  the  vestibule  with  Aleck,  and  scrutinized  the 
dozen  or  more  cards  over  the  bell-handles,  giving  the 
names  of  the  tenants.  Over  the  bell  handle  belonging  to 
the  third  floor,  left,  was  a  coarsely  printed  card,  with  a  crest, 
bearing-  the  name  Count  Kharlovitz.  After  consultation 
with  Aleck,  she  rang  the  bell  ;  for  there  was  a  possibility 
that  Mrs.  Larkin  had  moved,  or  that  she  was  living  with 
some  other  family.  The  front  door  was  opened  by  an  in- 
visible agency,  and  again  closed  behind  them.  Gertrude 
was  so  startled  by  this  automatic  action,  that  she  seized 
hold  of  the  knob  and  again  tore  the  door  open.  She  was 
flushed  and  excited  ;  but  seeing  Aleck's  wonder,  began  to 
laugh  ruefully  at  her  own  absurdity.  They  mounted 
two  flights  of  carpeted  stairs  and  rang  the  bell  on  the 
left,  where  the  card  with  the  coronet  was  again  exhib- 
ited. 

A  youngish-looking  man  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  with  a  big 
black  mustache,  opened  the  door,  put  out  his  head,  and 
inquired  what  they  wanted.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar  of 
a  very  fine  flavor. 

"  We  wish  to  see  Mrs.  Larkin,"  said  Aleck. 

The  man  withdrew  his  head  abruptly  and  slammed  the 
door.  A  discussion  was  heard  inside,  at  first  subdued,  but 
growing  louder.  A  querulous  female  treble,  which  Ger- 
trude thought  she  recognized,  was  pleading  for  something 
to  which  a  rasping  bass  obviously  objected.  Presently 
there  was  a  bang  as  of  something  thrown  or  upset,  then 
more  tearful  pleading,  and  at  last  silence.  Gertrude  stood 
listening  with  a  sinking  heart.  The  vision  of  the  rats 
creeping  all  over  her,  which  had  haunted  her  on  the  way, 
was  far  less  terrible  than  the  conviction  which  now  stole 
upon  her,  that  that  door  hid  some  disgraceful  secret.  That 
she  had  been  imposed  upon  she  could  not  doubt ;  only  she 
was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the  motive.  Her  mother  had 
perhaps  not  expected,  judging  by  her  daughter's  previous 
behavior,  that  she  would  obey  her  summons  ;  but  had 
hoped  by  the  description  of  her  misery  to  extort  further 
contributions  of  money. 

"Well,"  said  Aleck,  after  five  minutes'  patient  waiting, 
"what  do  you  say?  Shall  we  spend  the  morning  here  ?" 

"You  must  stay  with  me,  Aleck,"  she  replied,  tremu- 
17 


258  'THE  MAMMON 

lously  ;  "  I  am  determined  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this. 
Ring  the  bell  once  more." 

Aleck  rang,  and  the  response  was  something  that 
sounded  like  the  clatter  of  dishes  and  jingling  of  glasses. 
Somebody  was  bestirring  himself  apparently  to  put  the 
rooms  in  order  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the  man  with 
the  mustache,  enveloped  in  the  flavor  of  his  fine  cigar, 
opened  the  door  quite  smilingly  and  apologized  for  having 
kept  them  waiting.  He  was  now  no  longer  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  but  wore  a  threadbare  velvet  jacket.  He  had  a 
coarse  face,  large  teeth,  high  cheek-bones,  and  a  receding 
chin  and  forehead.  His  cheeks  glistened  from  having  been 
freshly  shaved,  and  his  thick  black  hair  was  pushed  back 
without  a  parting.  His  gray  eyes  were  a  trifle  blood-shot 
|  qfnd  had  an  indescribably  dissipated  look.  It  was  difficult 
ro  conceive  of  a  more  perfect  combination  of  brutality  and 
I/weakness  than  his  features  exhibited.  There  was  some- 
» thing  in  his  manner — a  certain  flashiness  and  florid  civil- 
ity— which  made  Aleck  conclude  that  he  was  an  ex-barber 
or  perhaps  an  ex-waiter  in  a  fashionable  restaurant.  " Je 
vous  demande  mille  pardons,  monsieur,  et  madame"  he  began, 
bowing  with  the  abruptness  of  a  jumping  jack,  "ah,  you 
spik  not  French  ?  My  vife  ;  she  know  not  vhich  you  vas. 
You  come  in  ?  It  is  veil.  You  know  ze  Comtesse  Khar- 
lovitz,  yes  ?  It  maque  me  much  plaisir  to  see  you  here." 
Talking  and  bowing  incessantly,  he  led  the  way  into  a 
rather  cheaply  furnished  parlor,  the  air  of  which  was  close 
and  pervaded  with  a  strong  smell  of  opium.  On  a  small 
marble-topped  table  stood  a  dainty  coffee-pot,  a  pint  bottle 
of  Haute  Sauterne,  and  other  remnants  of  a  light  French 
breakfast.  The  carpet,  which  was  a  rich  Axminster,  was 
dusty  and  covered  with  spots.  Here  and  there  on  the 
floor  lay  champagne  corks,  and  under  a  chair  a  crumpled 
and  stained  napkin  was  visible.  There  had  apparently 
been  a  carousal  of  some  sort  in  the  room,  the  night  be- 
fore, and  there  had  been  no  time  to  remove  its  last  traces. 
"You  is  Miss  Larkins,  yes  ?  "  said  the  polite  host,  point- 
ing with  a  large  flourish  to  a  chair,  upon  which  Gertrude 
sank  down,  because  her  knees  seemed  too  weak  to  support 
her.  "I  am  Count  Kharlovitz,  you  hear  of  me,  yes?  I 
am  your  muzzer's  us-band.  You  permit  me  to  smoke? 
Ze  comtess,  she  maque  her  toilette  ;  she  not  veil,  non,  not 
vary  veil,"  here  the  count  shook  his  head  mournfully  and 
his  voice  became  plaintive  and  sympathetic.  "  She  have 
vary  bad  sickness.  Zepain — c'estaffreux,  mademoiselle,  com- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

Men  elle  souffre — ze  pain  he  roll  her  in  a  knot — out,je  vous 
assure  she  have  vary  bad  pain." 

Gertrude  had  not  opened  her  mouth  during  this  moving 
recital;  she  had  a  sensation  of  dizziness,  she  could  not 
persuade  herself  that  that  which  she  saw  and  heard  was 
wholly  and  tangibly  real.  She  had  but  one  feeling  for  the 
man  before  her;  she  felt  degraded  at  listening  to  him  ;  he 
filled  her  with  disgust.  Her  father  had  been  right  after 
all,  and  she  had  been  wofully  wrong  in  rejecting  his  advice. 
This  was  a  scheme  to  entrap  her,  to  extract  money  from 
her,  and  it  was  so  barefaced,  so  transparent,  that  she  could 
scarcely  understand  how  she  had  failed  to  see  through  it. 

Count  Kharlovitz,  perceiving  that  his  eloquence  did  not 
elicit  any  response  from  Gertrude,  turned  his  attention  to 
Aleck,  who  was  seated  on  a  chair  at  the  window. 

"You  is  ze  fiancJ  of  Mademoiselle  Larkin,  monsieur?" 
he  began,  interrogatively. 

"Oh,  no  ;  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Aleck,  blushing.  "  I 
am  her  cousin,  and  Mr.  Larkin's  nephew." 

"Ah,  yes  ;  ze  cousin ;  and  your  positiong,  if  you  permit 
me  as  to  be  so  free?" 

"I  am  a  lawyer,  and  for  the  present  also  a  journalist." 

"  Ah,  yes,  &journaliste,jecomprend.  You  compose  for  ze 
newspapare.  It  is  a  grande  positiong,  that  positiong  of 
journaliste" 

"That  depends  upon  how  you  look  at  it.  It  is  grand  in 
possibilities,  but  it  is  not  very  grandly  paid,  at  least  not  in 
the  branch  of  it  where  I  am  working." 

"Ah,  you  maque  me  surprise,  mats  zose  journaltstes,  zay 
maque  grande  noise.  Zay  sell  newspapare — zousand  news- 
papare— tnilliong  newspapare  ;  zay  become  rich,  vary  rich, 
zay  build  palais,  zay  live  en  prince,  yes." 

"Well,  I've  not  gotten  quite  to  that  point  yet,"  Aleck  re- 
plied, smiling.  "  I  have  to  build  my  palaces  preliminarily 
in  the  air,  because  that  is  the  cheapest  building  material  I 
know  of." 

The  count  failed  to  catch  the  point  of  this  remark,  but 
pretended,  nevertheless,  to  find  it  highly  interesting. 

"You  say  ze  building  is  chip,  en  Amcrique"  he  ejacu- 
lated, dubiously  ;  "mats  non  ze  rent,  le  loyer  de  maison  it  is 
not  chip.  A  man  he  live  en  prince  in  France  for  what  he  pay 
for  house  in  Amerique" 

The  same  plaintive  voice  which  Gertrude  had  heard 
before  now  called  the  count,  and  he  arose  and  opened  the 
folding  doors  to  the  next-room.  With  his  peculiar  springy 


260  THE  MAMMON 

step,  which  expressed  an  exaggerated  alertness,  he  entered 
the  bedchamber,  and  presently  returned,  bowed  to  Ger- 
trude and  said  : 

"Miss  Larkin,  your  muzzer  will  have  ze  plaisir  to  see 
you." 

Gertrude  rose  reluctantly,  and  looked  appealingly  at 
Aleck. 

"Can  my  cousin  go  with  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  your  muzzer — she  have  much  pain  ;  she  suffare 
vary  much.  She  see  you  seule — how  say  you — she  see  you 
wiz  herself." 

The  smell  of  drugs  in  the  adjoining  room,  as  Gertrude 
entered  it,  was  overpowering.  The  air  was  so  close  that 
she  felt  as  if  she  must  gasp  for  breath.  It  was  a  sickening 
bedroom  odor,  dead,  oppressive,  and  heavy.  There  were 
evidences  round  about  of  a  hasty  effort  at  putting  things 
in  order;  but  a  mass  of  female  attire  lay  in  a  heap  on  a 
lounge,  and  everything  that  met  the  eye  of  the  young  girl 
was  soiled  and  untidy.  There  was  one  large  window  look- 
ing upon  a  court-yard ;  but  the  shade  was  drawn  down, 
leaving  the  room  in  twilight.  Coming  from  the  light 
parlor,  Gertrude  could  not  immediately  adapt  her  vision  to 
the  dusk  ;  and  it  took  her  some  seconds  to  discover  that 
the  count  had  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  that  he  was 
himself  standing  at  her  side.  A  horrible  fright  took  pos- 
session of  her ;  but  she  had  yet  self-control  enough  to  keep 
from  betraying  it. 

"  Open  the  door,  please,"  she  said,  quietly. 

"  Mais  ze  light,  it  pain  ze  ice  of  your  muzzer." 

"  Never  mind,  I  want  that  door  opened,  and  I  want  you 
to  leave  me." 

"Mais,  mademoiselle,  I  am  ze  us-band  of  your  muzzer— 

"  It  does  not  matter  ;  I  want  you  to  leave  me  ;  or  I  shall 
call  my  cousin." 

The  count  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  he  would  give  her 
time  to  reconsider  so  unreasonable  a  request.  Then  see- 
ing her  determination  he  cocked  his  head  dubiously, 
spread  his  palms  and  with  his  expressive  shoulder  shrug, 
said:  "  Comme  vous  voudrez,  mademoiselle"  and  opened  the 
door.  Gertie,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  her,  threw  a  glance 
over  her  shoulder  to  make  sure  that  Aleck  was  yet  within 
calling  distance,  and  then  advanced  cautic*usly  to  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor.  In  a  large  mahogany  bed  she  discovered 
a  dark  human  head  outlined  against  the  pillow;  and  she 
heard  a  heavy  stertorous  breathing.  As  she  became  ac- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  261 

customed  to  the  dimness,  she  perceived  also  that  a  pair  of 
dark  glassy  eyes  were  vaguely  fixed  upon  her.  With  a 
sense  of  intolerable  oppression  she  stepped  up  to  the  bed  ; 
she  felt  as  if  she  must  cry  out,  but  could  not.  All  her 
soul  was  in  tumult  down  in  the  depths  ;  but  on  the  surface 
there  was  a  nightmarish  calm  which  she  was  powerless  to 
break. 

"Sit  down,  my  child,"  said  a  stertorous  whisper  from  the 
pillows ;  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  you.  I  could  not  die 
without  seeing  you." 

Gertrude  was  not  heartless  ;  on  the  contrary  she  was  emo- 
tional and  affectionate,  and  her  tears  came  easily.  If  she 
had  not  had  a  recollection  of  the  lively  altercation  which 
she  had  heard  from  the  hall  but  a  few  minutes  ago  she 
would  have  been  all  sorrow  and  tenderness.  But  having 
once  had  her  suspicion  aroused  she  could  not  again  lull 
it  to  sleep.  She  felt  convinced  that  this  impressive  mise- 
en-scene  was  devised  especially  to  move  her  ;  and  the  very 
illness  itself  and  the  symptoms  of  approaching  dissolution 
were  pretences  and  lies,  invented  for  sordid  purposes.  It 
was  a  relief  to  her  to  think  that  it  was  this  dreadful  man, 
under  whose  sway  her  mother  had  fallen,  who  had  com- 
pelled her  to  write  her  mendacious  letter,  and  who  was 
responsible  for  this  last  cruel  mockery. 

"  Does  your  father  know  that  you  are  here  ?"  whispered 
the  invalid,  her  dim  eyes  gradually  kindling  into  a  more 
vivid  consciousness. 

"Yes,"  answered  Gertrude. 

"  Did  he  give  his  consent  to  your  going  ? " 

"No." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  I  should  never  come  back.  He  does  not  want 
to  see  me  again." 

The  sadness  of  the  situation*  possessed  her  with  over- 
whelming force,  as  she  uttered  these  words,  and  the  tears 
coursed  slowly  down  her  cheeks.  Her  mother  sighed 
heavily,  but  said  nothing.  Gertrude  observed  with  pain 
how  unwholesome  she  looked.  The  black  rings  about  her 
eyes  were  larger  and  darker  than  ever ;  and  all  the  creases 
in  her  face  had  a  strange  duskiness  which  seemed  possi- 
tively  uncanny.  Her  skin  between  these  creases  had  no 
small  wrinkles  but  was  puffy  and  glassy,  and  the  dark, 
vague  pupils  of  her  eyes  filled  the  whole  opening  of  the 
lids,  blending  imperceptibly  with  the  iris. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  she  murmured  after  a  pause  ;  and 


262  THE  MAMMON 

Gertrude,  though  she  shrank  from  her  touch,  obeyed. 
But  she  could  not  suppress  the  shudder  that  shook  her 
from  head  to  foot,  as  her  cool  healthy  hand  came  in  con- 
tact with  the  hot,  pulpy,  satiny  palm  of  the  invalid. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,  Gertrude,"  the  latter  continued  in  a 
plaintive  murmur,  "how  shamefully  your  father  maltreated 
me." 

"No,  no,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  eagerly;  "you  told  me 
that  once  before." 

"  I  haven't  told  you  half  of  what  I  have  suffered." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  know  it.  I  don't  want  you  to 
speak  ill  of  my  father." 

"Then  you  love  him,  do  you  ?" 

There  was  a  sudden  spiteful  energy  in  this  query,  which 
contrasted  with  the  die-away  murmur  which  had  preceded 
it. 

11  Yes,  I  love  him,"  Gertrude  answered  with  bold  earnest- 
ness. 

"O  my  God,"  sighed  the  Countess,  reviving  rapidly,  "to 
think  that  I  have  brought  a  child  into  the  world  who  loves 
her  mother's  murderer." 

She  turned  toward  the  wall  and  began  to  weep  hysteri- 
cally. Gertrude,  with  a  pang  in  her  heart,  stood  gazing 
at  her  without  the  least  stirring  of  sympathy.  She  could 
scarcely  bring  herself  to  believe  that  this  was  her  mother, 
to  whom  she  owed  her  very  life,  and  to  whom  she  was 
bound  by  the  closest  and  most  sacred  ties.  A  dull  and* 
callous  heaviness  settled  upon  her  mind,  and  made  her 
impervious  to  all  emotion.  She  had  but  one  desire  and 
that  was  to  be  gone.  If  she  could  but  find  an  excuse  for 
interrupting  the  interview,  she  would  not  linger  another 
moment.  It  seemed  an  age  since  she  entered  this  dread- 
ful place,  and  she  imagined  that  she  was  being  slowly  im- 
pregnated with  its  poison.'  She  yearned  to  get  out  into 
the  pure,  blessed  air,  and  the  bright,  free  light  of  heaven. 
But  the  thought  of  the  secret  she  was  to  learn,  somehow, 
restrained  her  ;  and  she  stood  irresolutely  gazing  about 
her,  and  wondering  whether  she  should  take  courage  and 
tear  herself  away.  Obeying  a  blind  impulse  she  went  to 
the  window  and  rolled  the  shade  half  way  up  ;  and  the 
sight  of  the  sunshiny  world  without  kindled  her  energy. 
It  became  plain  to  her  in  a  moment  that  the  secret  might 
be  a  malicious  invention  which  might  bring  disquietude 
and  unhappiness  into  her  life— which,  being  incapable 
either  of  proof  or  of  disproof,  would  furnish  fresh  fuel  for 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  263 

torturing  reflection.  She  determined  to  ward  off  this  secret 
at  all  hazards.  A  dim  sense  of  duty  protested  weakly 
against  this  resolution,  but  lacked  vitality  to  assert  itself. 
She  turned  again  toward  the  bed,  took  her  mother's  list- 
less hand  and  said  :  "Good-by." 

The  countess  started  into  a  half-sitting  posture  with  an 
unpremeditated  energy  of  which  in  the  next  moment  she 
repented  ;  for  she  sank  back  among  the  pillows  with  a 
groan  and  whimpered  : 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  leave  me,  Gertrude.  You  must  stay 
with  me,  and  close  my  dying  eyes.  I  have  not  many  days 
left  on  earth." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Gertrude  answered  firmly  ;  "but  I  cannot." 

She  was  anxious  to  cut  this  harrowing  conversation 
short,  and  moved  rapidly  toward  the  door. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it,"  cried  her  mother  after  her  ;  "  you  are 
as  cruel  and  heartless  as  your  father.  You  are  like  him  ; 
you  trample  upon  a  bleeding  heart;  you " 

Two  or  three  more  accusations  were  hurled  after  her  in 
a  screaming  crescendo,  but  she  did  not  hear  them.  The 
Count,  seeing  that  his  wife  was  going  off  into  hysterics, 
drew  the  folding  doors  tightly,  and  pushed  forward  a  chair 
in  which  he  invited  Gertrude  to  be  seated.  But  she 
ignored  the  invitation,  and  Aleck,  who  was  no  less  anxious 
to  be  gone,  rose  to  his  feet  and  seized  his  hat  and  cane. 

"You  stay,  un  moment  and  spik  wiz  me,  mademoiselle '?" 
Count  Kharlovitz  began,  with  his  obsequious  smile. 

"No,  thanks,"  Gertrude  answered,  "  I  must  be  gone." 

"  Mais,  mademoiselle,  you  put  monaye  wiz  me  for  your  muz- 
zer?  She  have  no  monaye,  non.  I  have  monaye  in  Poland, 
but  my  bruzzer — he  promeese  to  send,  but  he  not  send.  I 
vait  long  time  ;  but  he  leave  me  desole'—no  friends,  no 
monaye,  no  nozzing  in  a  stranch  land." 

He  accompanied  this  speech  with  the  liveliest  gesticula- 
tions, demonstrating  his  grief  at  his  brother's  mendacity 
and  his  utter  desolation.  Gertrude,  who  was  quite  pre- 
pared for  such  a  request,  opened  her  pocket-book,  in  which 
there  was  but  ten  dollars.  She  was  a  little  ashamed  of 
offering  so  small  a  sum,  but  nevertheless  dropped  two  five- 
dollar  bills,  half  apologetically,  upon  the  table.  The  Count 
picked  them  up,  looked  at  them  with  acute  disappoint- 
ment, and  again  dropped  them  upon  the  table. 

"  Mais,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  reproach  and 
offended  dignity;  "you  maque  me  vary  sad.  Ten  dollare, 
zat  is  not  vhat  I  expec  from  a  daughtare  to  a  muzzer.  She 


264  THE  MAMMON 

have  vary  bad  pain — your  muzzer — and  she  need  medi- 
ceene,  vary  expensive  mediceene,  and  she  have  no  monaye." 

He  addressed  this  plausible  remonstrance  to  Gertrude ; 
but  turned  every  moment  to  Aleck,  as  if  calling  him  to  wit- 
ness to  the  entire  reasonableness  of  his  position.  Aleck, 
however,  supposed  that  he  was  being  included  in  the  ap- 
peal for  further  contributions,  and  partly  to  rehabilitate 
Gertrude's  self-respect,  partly  to  make  an  end  of  an  em- 
barrassing scene,  he  added  a  twenty-dollar  bill  to  the  two 
abashed  fives.  The  Count,  whose  expectation  had  evi- 
dently been  raised  to  a  high  pitch  by  Aleck's  movement 
to  his  pocket,  picked  up  the  bank-note  between  his  thumb 
and  his  forefinger  and  laughed  contemptuously. 

"  Zay  Americains,"  he  ejaculated  with  a  gesture  of  mock 
respect,  "zay  \sgrande  people.  Zay  have  zirty  dollare  for 
ze  tears,  and  ze  groans,  and  ze  pains  of  a  dying  muzzer. 
Zay  have " 

Aleck,  who  found  that  this  comedy  had  now  gone  about 
far  enough,  did  not  permit  the  count  to  finish. 

"  I  must  beg  of  you,"  he  interrupted,  with  an  angry 
flash  in  his  eye,  "  to  restrain  your  tongue  in  this  lady's 
presence." 

"  You  have  insolence  to  ask  me  to  'old  my  tong," 
cried  the  Polander  with  rising  ire  ;  "  I  tich  you  to  spik 
zat  vay  to  a  nobleman." 

Aleck  had  managed  during  this  tirade  to  tear  the  door 
open,  and  had  gotten  himself  and  Gertrude  out  into  the 
hall.  They  made  haste  to  descend  the  stairs,  while  the 
count  stood  leaning  over  the  bannister,  hurling  the 
coarsest  abuse  after  them.  They  entered  the  cab  which 
stood  waiting  in  the  street,  and  sat  gazing  at  each  other 
in  dumfounded  silence,  while  the  wheels  rattled  away 
over  the  pavement. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  26$ 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

THE    FINGER    OF    DESTINY. 

Gertrude  was  confronted  with  a  problem  which  de- 
manded an  immediate  solution.  If  she  returned  home,  in 
spite  of  her  father's  warning,  would  he  receive  and  for- 
give her,  or  would  he  make  a  scandal  and  show  her  the 
door  ?  After  having  considered  the  question  from  all 
sides,  she  could  not  help  inclining  to  the  belief  that  he 
would  do  the  latter.  That  he  was  in  the  right  and  she  in 
the  wrong,  she  willingly  conceded  ;  but  she  knew  that  to 
him  that  was  not  sufficient.  She  ought  to  have  accepted 
his  judgment  without  submitting  it  to  the  test  of  experi- 
ence. She  remembered  now  (though  in  her  excitement 
it  had  not  previously  occurred  to  her)  that  he  volunta- 
rily paid  his  divorced  wife  $1,500  per  annum,  and  that,  ac- 
cordingly, the  intrigue,  of  which  she  had  been  the  blind 
tool,  had  been  nothing  but  a  blackmailing  scheme.  She 
bowed  herself  in  the  dust  and  revelled  in  humiliation, 
when  she  thought  of  the  lofty  enthusiasm  with  which  she 
had  set  out  on  this  enterprise,  and  its  wretched  and  dis- 
graceful outcome.  Was  it  then  possible  that  she  was  so 
ignorant  of  reality,  so  incapable  of  judgment,  so  utterly 
unequipped  for  the  battle  of  life  ?  What  wonder  that 
men  treat  the  opinions  of  women  so  superciliously,  if  they 
are  really  so  worthless  as  guides  of  action.  Gertrude 
vowed  that  she  would  never  trust  herself  again  ;  never  set 
up  her  own  will  against  that  of  her  father. 

It  flashed  through  her  brain  that  if  her  father  had  been 
in  the  right,  then  she  had  also  been  unjust  to  Dr.  Hawk. 
But,  somehow,  her  fancy  did  not  warm  into  sympathy 
with  this  reflection.  As  she  thought  back  upon  the  scene 
of  her  parting  with  the  doctor,  she  became  doubly  con- 
vinced that  his  conduct  had  been  outrageous.  She  could 
not  determine  exactly  wherein  his  offence  consisted  ;  but 
that  he  had  been  unfeeling,  sordid,  abominable,  that  was 
as  certain  as  the  stars  in  heaven.  The  halo  had  utterly 
faded  from  his  head  ;  and  though,  rationally  considered,  he 


266  THE  MAMMON 

had  not  been  so  absolutely  wrong,  she  could  not  think  of 
him  except  with  a  sense  of  resentment  and  outrage. 

But  Gertrude's  inability  to  excuse  the  doctor  made  her 
only  the  more  ardently  contrite  as  regards  the  wrong  she 
had  done  her  father.  She  concluded  that  she  would  not 
start  home  without  having  first  received  his  permission. 
She  was  unwilling  to  trust  the  kind  of  message  she  wished 
to  send  him  to  the  publicity  of  the  telegraph  ;  for  the  lady 
operator  in  Torryville  was  an  acquaintance  and  former 
schoolmate  of  hers,  and  not  distinguished  for  discretion. 
She  would  therefore  be  obliged  to  remain  two  or  three 
days  in  the  city,  until  she  could  obtain  an  answer  to  a 
letter  which  she  would  not  delay  writing.  Aleck,  who 
cordially  coincided  in  whatever  she  proposed,  introduced 
her,  forthwith,  to  a  lady  who  kept  a  genteel  boarding- 
house  on  Madison  Avenue,  and  before  nightfall  Gertrude 
found  herself  comfortably  installed  in  a  room  which 
looked  out  upon  a  long  stretch  of  backyards,  filled  with 
fluttering  undergarments  hung  out  to  dry.  She  lost  no 
time  in  dispatching  her  letter,  which  was  written  out  of 
the  fulness  of  her  repentant  heart  ;  and  then  composed  her 
soul  in  patience,  being  confident  that  the  reply  would 
soon  be  forthcoming.  Aleck  in  the  meanwhile,  with  the 
recklessness  of  a  millionaire,  had  promised  to  disburse 
out  of  his  abundance  the  $18  per  week  which  was  re- 
quired to  pay  her  board,  and  showed  in  all  respects  a 
charming  solicitude  to  remove  every  stone  from  her  path. 
In  spite  of  her  resolution  to  be  contrite,  her  elastic  spirit 
rebounded  with  a  humiliating  ease,  and  she  could  not  with 
her  best  will  maintain  a  becoming  air  of  lugubrious  resig- 
nation. New  York  with  its  noisy  turmoil  exhilarated 
her.  She  walked  up  the  broad  bright  Avenue  with  a 
positive  sense  of  enjoyment,  which  she  knew  was  unbe- 
coming, but  which  she  could  not  help.  The  endless  pro- 
cession of  carnages  going  to  and  coming  from  the  Park, 
the  richly  attired  ladies,  reclining  on  their  cushions  with 
majestic  ease,  the  clatter  of  the  horseshoes  against  the 
pavement,  all  the  gay  pageantry  of  life  in  this  great 
metropolis  filled  her  with  a  child-like  pleasure.  She  had 
been  in  New  York  before,  to  be  sure  ;  but  then  she  had 
been  a  school-girl,  and  had  to  promenade  in  a  procession 
with  a  blonde  pig-tail  down  her  back,  watched  over  by  two 
subacid  old  maids.  She  had  seen  very  little  then  ;  and  the 
system  of  education  of  which  she  had  been  the  victim  had 
had  for  its  object  not  to  open  her  senses,  but  rather  to 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  267 

close  them.  How  much  more  delightful  it  was  to  walk 
with  Aleck,  who  was  so  droll  and  witty,  and  with  the  en- 
thusiasm of  a  recent  arrival  showed  off  the  sights  of  the 
town  to  his  rural  cousin.  He  felt  so  metropolitan  while 
engaged  in  this  agreeable  occupation,  and  never  grew 
in  the  least  angry  when  she  twitted  him  on  the  fine  air 
of  proprietorship  which  he  had  acquired  during  his  brief 
sojourn. 

It  was  inevitable  that  Aleck's  own  affairs  should  sooner 
or  later  become  the  theme  of  discussion.  His  literary  as- 
pirations, it  appeared,  were  as  yet  unrealized  ;  nor  had  his 
efforts  to  get  a  footing  in  journalism  been  a  brilliant  suc- 
cess. He  occupied  a  very  uncertain  kind  of  position,  as  a 
writer  on  space  on  a  leading  daily;  but  his  copy,  which 
usually  was  destined  for  the  Sunday  edition,  was  so  merci- 
lessly slashed  into  by  a  malevolent  person,  named  Ram- 
shaw  (who  had  taken  an  unconquerable  dislike  to  him) 
that  the  pay  amounted  to  next  to  nothing.  He  had  spoken 
seriously  to  Ramshaw,  and  remonstrated  against  the  kind  of 
treatment  to  which  he  subjected  him  ;  but  that  worthy 
was  so  drunk  with  power  that  he  would  listen  to  no  reason. 
He  had  even  intimated  to  Aleck  that  if  he  did  not  guard 
his  tongue,  it  would  afford  him  satisfaction  to  bounce  him. 
To  a  man  who  had  long  been  his  own  master  and  practised 
law  with  a  fair  degree  of  success,  it  was,  of  course,  a  trial 
to  have  to  put  up  with  such  insolence.  Aleck's  chief  con- 
solation, amid  these  tribulations,  was  the  hope  that,  some 
day,  he  might  be  in  a  position  to  retaliate.  And  then,  woe 
unto  Henry  P.  Ramshaw  !  It  were  better  for  that  editor 
if  he  had  never  been  born  ! 

The  zest,  the  sympathy,  the  eager  interest  with  which 
Gertrude  listened  to  the  tale  of  his  sorrows  were  a  great 
comfort  to  Aleck.  That  anybody  could  be  base  enough  to 
persecute  such  a  dear,  droll,  kind-hearted  fellow  as  Aleck 
was  more  than  she  could  comprehend.  She  had  never 
heard  anything  so  extraordinary  as  the  things  he  told  her. 
And  her  heart  went  out  to  him  with  a  sweet  spontaneity 
which  made  him  almost  congratulate  himself  on  his  mis- 
fortunes because  they  brought  him  such  exquisite  compen- 
sation. During  these  days  which  would  be,  alas  !  too  brief, 
he  gave  himself  up  completely  to  the  enjoyment  of  his 
cousin's  society.  He  was  in  a  state  of  felicity  the  like  of 
which  he  had  never  experienced  before.  He  walked  on 
air,  he  quaffed  the  cup  of  joy  in  long,  deep  draughts.  His 
troubles,  which  before  her  arrival  had  preyed  upon  him 


268  THE  MAMMON' 

and  made  him  moody,  became  now  mere  matters  of  history 
that  lost  all  power  to  annoy  him.  He  began  to  nourish 
a  hope  which,  a  few  months  ago,  would  have  seemed  to 
him  the  height  of  madness.  For,  why  should  she  be  so 
bewitchingly  sweet  to  him,  laugh  with  such  a  delicious 
relish  at  his  jokes,  and  accept  all  his  attentions  with  such  a 
child-like  directness  and  ravishing  grace,  if  she  did  not 
mean  to  encourage  his  love  for  her  ?  That  he  loved  her, 
she  knew  well  enough;  had,  indeed,  known  it  before  he 
was  quite  sure  of  it  himself.  She  was  not  heartless  ;  was 
she,  then,  capable  of  playing  with  his  devotion  for  her 
own  amusement  in  order  to  beguile  an  idle  hour  ? 

It  was  a  curious  thing  that  Gertrude  did  not  seriously 
propound  to  herself  this  query.  She  had,  in  fact,  no  relish 
for  any  kind  of  problem,  for  the  present  ;  and  would  have 
liked  to  live  on  from  day  to  day,  and  have  others  decide 
every  troublesome  question,  without  consulting  her.  Al- 
though the  three  days  in  which  she  had  expected  to  hear 
from  her  father  were  past,  without  bringing  any  response  to 
her  letter,  she  did  not  at  first  take  his  silence  much  to  heart. 
She  had  passed  through  so  many  emotions  during  the  last 
month,  that  it  seemed  as  if  her  nature  had  exhausted  itself 
and  she  was  thoughtlessly  luxuriating  in  indolent  repose. 
She  had  no  conscience  for  the  present,  and  did  not  want 
any.  If  Aleck  had  proposed  to  her,  she  would  have  been 
annoyed,  not  necessarily  because  she  did  not  love  him,  but 
because  loving  was  more  or  less  fatiguing,  and  she  wished 
to  be  left  in  peace.  She  was,  indeed,  as  she  cheerfully  ad- 
mitted, very  fond  of  Aleck,  and  was  not  at  all  indifferent 
to  his  fondness  for  her.  But  she  hoped  he  would  behave 
discreetly  and  make  no  scenes. 

But  this  suspensive  calm  could  not  last  forever.  When 
ten  days  had  elapsed  without  any  letter  or  message  from 
Torryville,  it  began  to  dawn  upon  Gertrude  that  her  father 
had  disowned  her.  He  had  kept  his  word  ;  she  had  re- 
ceived due  warning  and  had  no  cause  for  complaint.  She 
had  hoped  he  would  relent  ;  but  had  she  really  believed 
that  he  would  ?  No,  she  had  not.  Her  momentary  aban- 
donment to  pleasure  had  been  a  mere  forcible  staving  off 
of  the  evil  hour  which  she  knew  would  be  coming.  She 
could  now  postpone  no  longer  the  decision  of  her  fate. 
But  she  was  too  wrought  up,  too  distressed,  to  decide 
rationally.  She  lay  awake  through  the  small  hours  of  the 
night,  planning  and  thinking,  until  her  head  seemed  on 
the  point  of  splitting.  She  imagined  herself  returning, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  269 

like  a  prodigal  daughter,  and  flinging  herself  penitently  at 
her  father's  feet ;  but  fine  as  this  seemed,  abstractly  con- 
sidered, her  temperament  rebelled  against  it;  and  the  voice 
of  prudence  also  told  her  that  that  was  not  the  way  to  im- 
press Obed  Larkin.  He  had  no  sense  of  the  dramatic,  and 
could  not  be  counted  upon  to  play  the  role  which  had 
been  assigned  to  him.  On  the  whole,  she  liked  him  better 
for  this  very  cross  grained  quality  in  him  which  made  him 
so  stubborn  and  unadaptable.  She  felt  sorry  for  him, 
knowing  well  that  he  would  grieve  for  her  ;  and  yet  see  no 
way  of  getting  her  back.  The  thought  that  she  might 
never  see  him  again  wrung  her  heart  with  pain.  She  saw 
him  wandering  desolately  through  the  big  house  in  his 
shiny  dress  suit,  with  his  ancient  deerskin  slippers  down 
at  the  heels,  with  his  broad  stooping  shoulders,  shaking 
from  time  to  time  his  white  obstinate  head  in  vague  re- 
monstrance against  the  ways  of  Providence.  She  had 
never  been  of  much  comfort  to  him,  perhaps,  while  she 
was  with  him  ;  but  she  had  a  dim  consciousness  that  it  had 
been  a  satisfaction  to  him  to  see  her,  and  that  he  would 
miss  her  sorely  now  that  she  was  gone. 

Since,  then,  the  homeward  way  was  cut  off,  it  behooved 
Gertrude  to  think  of  other  expedients.  She  concluded 
that  she  must  go  to  work  and  earn  her  own  living.  There 
was  a  kind  of  romantic  satisfaction  in  this  resolution 
which  appealed  to  her.  It  was  such  a  fine  thing  for  a 
young  woman  to  issue  that  declaration  of  independence 
which  emancipates  her  from  her  thraldom  to  the  male  sex 
and  entitles  her  to  pursue,  in  her  own  way,  life,  liberty, 
and  happiness.  The  only  trouble,  in  Gertrude's  case,  was 
to  decide  how  she  should  achieve  this  delightful  indepen- 
dence. She  ran  over  her  accomplishments  in  her  mind, 
and  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  not  one  of  them  had  a 
marketable  value.  The  thing  she  could  do  best  was  to 
draw  ;  but  she  had  had  no  systematic  training  and  had  no 
idea  how  to  set  about  imparting  her  knowledge  to  others. 
Her  modelling  was  just  good  enough  to  make  it  distress- 
ing that  it  was  not  better ;  and  in  music  she  had  reached 
about  as  far  as  King  George  III.,  who,  as  his  teacher  as- 
serted, had  advanced  from  the  class  of  those  who  did  not 
play  at  all,  into  the  class  of  those  who  played  badly.  It 
occurred  to  her  that  she  might  enlist  the  interest  of  Kate 
Van  Schaak,  who  was  rich  and  powerful  and  had  a  great 
clientele  of  dependents.  But  there  her  pride  rebelled.  To 
appear  before  Kate  as  a  petitioner  and  be  patronized  and 


2/0  THE   MAMMON- 

condescended  to — she  would  rather  starve  than  do  that 
In  the  end  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  appeal  to  Aleck. 
He  had  never  yet  disappointed  her  confidence.  With  this 
comforting  reflection  she  finally  drifted  into  unconscious- 
ness, just  as  the  dawn  was  peeping  through  the  shutters. 

When  she  woke  up,  it  was  nearly  nine  o'clock.  The  sun 
shone  through  the  shades  with  subdued  brightness,  and 
sent  across  her  bed  a  shaft  of  unobscured  light  in  which 
particles  of  illuminated  dust  were  dancing.  She  reached 
out  fof  a  handglass  and  observed  her  face  critically.  She 
could  not  deny  to  herself  that  it  was  a  Handsome  face  ; 
though  she  suspected  that  Aleck  exaggerated  its  loveli- 
ness. But  if  she  were  to  go  to  work  now,  sewing  or  teach- 
ing or  clerking,  would  not  this  beauty  rather  be  a  disad- 
vantage to  her  ?  And  would  she  not  be  likely  to  lose  it, 
wasting  the  midnight  oil,  toiling  for  the  mere  pittance 
she  required  to  keep  soul  and  body  together  ?  She  tried 
to  imagine  how  she  would  look,  a  year  hence,  or  two  years 
hence,  and  shuddered  at  the  picture  which  her  fancy  con- 
jured up. 

She  was  interrupted  in  her  reverie  by  a  knock  at  the 
door.  It  was  the  chambermaid,  who  brought  her  Aleck's 
card.  He  was  the  same  stanch  standby  in  times  of  peace 
and  in  times  of  trouble. 

"  Tell  him  to  wait,"  said  Gertrude,  suppressing  a  yawn. 
"  I'll  be  down  presently." 

She  had  a  strong  disinclination  to  get  up  and  begin  in 
earnest  the  battle  of  life.  The  act  seemed  half  symbolic  ; 
and  she  felt  in  all  the  joints  of  her  young  beautiful  body  a 
delicious  indolence.  However,  there  was  no  help  for  it ; 
she  arose  out  of  her  bed  with  a  languid  stateliness  as  I 
imagine  Venus  must  have  risen  from  the  foam  of  the  sea. 
She  dressed  with  leisurely  deliberation  (she  rarely  was  in 
haste  about  anything),  and  at  the  end  of  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  descended  into  the  parlor,  where  Aleck  was  school- 
ing his  patience,  studying  two  atrocious  portraits  of  the 
landlady  and  her  defunct  husband  in  their  wedding  attire. 

"Good-morning,  Aleck,"  she  said,  in  response  to  his 
greeting,  "  I  suppose  you  hate  me  for  having  kept  you 
waiting  so  long." 

"Yes,"  said  Aleck,  smiling,  "  I  have  just  arrived  at  the 
point  when  I  should  like  to  rend  you  to"  pieces." 

"  All  right,"  she  answered,  "  I  \vish  you  would.  It  would 
save  me  a  heap  of  trouble." 

"  Trouble?"  he    inquired,    sympathetically;    "why,   I 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2JI 

thought  we  had  the  sea  of  trouble  behind  us,  and  were 
now  comfortably  landed  on  the  shore." 

"Yes,  or  stranded  on  the  shore,"  Gertrude  suggested, 
lugubriously. 

Aleck  scarcely  knew  what  to  answer.  His  thought  re- 
verted to  Count  Kharlovitz  and  his  wife  as  the  only 
source  from  which  trouble  might  be  expected.  He  shud- 
dered at  the  possibility  of  further  dealings  with  people  so 
utterly  lost  to  all  shame.  It  was  therefore  a  relief  to  him 
when  his  cousin  continued: 

"  I  haven't  heard  a  word  from  father  yet,  and  you  know 
what  that  means." 

"  I  think  I  do,  Gertie,"  he  said,  gently. 

They  sat  looking  at  each  other  in  silence  for  some  mo- 
ments. The  consciousness  of  his  love  for  her  pervaded  him 
like  a  quickening  warmth  ;  and  the  sense  of  his  responsi- 
bility for  her,  and  his  protectorship  over  her,  filled  him 
with  tenderness.  Yet  he  was  unable  to  suppress  a  thrill 
of  pleasure  at  her  absolute  dependence  upon  him.  Not 
that  he  intended  in  any  way  to  take  advantage  of  this 
dependence.  But  was  not  the  finger  of  Destiny  visible  in 
this  complication  of  circumstances  which  had  brought 
them  so  closely  together,  when  he  had  resignedly  blown 
out  the  flame  of  hope  and  turned  his  back  on  his  dream  of 
happiness  ?  There  is  a  kind  of  innocent  fatalism  to  which 
we  are  all  more  or  less  subject  ;  and  Aleck  derived  an 
exquisite  delight  from  contemplating  the  benevolent  mach- 
inations of  Providence  in  his  behalf. 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do,  Gertie  ?"  he  asked,  taking 
pity  on  her  helplessness. 

"  I  have  got  to  do  something  to  earn  my  living.  And  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  what  I  had  better  try." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  saying  :  "  Try  to  have  me  earn 
your  living  for  you,"  but  a  fortunate  instinct  arrested  the 
words  on  his  tongue.  He  knew  from  of  old  that  this 
beautiful  girl  whom  he  aspired  to  make  his  was  a  bundle 
of  incalculable  impulses,  and  that  a  jarring  remark,  be- 
traying an  ever  so  trifling  lack  of  delicacy,  might  ruin  his 
cause  forever.  "I  will  do  what  I  can,  Gertie,"  he  said, 
heartily  ;  "  but  you  know  I  have  few  connections  in  this 
city,  and  none  that  are  valuable." 

They  discussed  the  matter  for  half  an  hour,  and  then 
started  for  the  down-town  newspaper  offices,  and  inserted 
advertisements.  They  also  called  at  several  business 
houses  in  response  to  advertisements  for  clerks  and  office 


2/2  THE  MAMMON 

assistants ;  but  as  short-hand  or  a  knowledge  of  the  type- 
writer were  invariably  required,  their  success  was  not 
encouraging.  Gertrude  then  took  the  heroic  resolution 
to  learn  the  use  of  the  type-writer  ;  and  Aleck  promptly 
hired  one  for  her  and  had  it  moved  to  her  room.  She 
made  very  slow  progress,  however,  and  grew  hopeless  and 
despondent.  Sometimes  she  set  out  alone,  with  the 
courage  of  ignorance,  answering  advertisements  ;  and  had 
the  most  humiliating  experiences.  Her  striking  beauty, 
her  disdainful  air,  and  her  handsome  clothes,  made  her 
the  subject  of  curious  conjecture.  A  Sunday  newspaper 
contained  a  rather  disrespectful  allusion  to  her;  and 
Aleck,  who  was  a  little  quixotic  in  such  matters,  came 
near  making  a  scandal  at  the  Press  Club,  when  he 
learned  by  whom  the  squib  was  written.  But  by  slapping 
the  man's  face  as  he  had  intended,  he  would  have  given 
Gertrude  a  disastrous  notoriety  ;  and  this  reflection  so- 
bered him  before  he  had  committed  any  folly. 

A  month  passed.  February  was  nearing  its  end  ;  slush 
and  rain  lasting  for  weeks,  depressed  the  buoyant  metro- 
politan temper,  and  quotations  in  Wall  Street  dropped 
from  sheer  meteorological  despondency.  Gertrude  had 
conceived  an  animosity  to  the  type-writer  which  made 
her  yearn  to  demolish  it  ;  and  short-hand,  she  declared, 
plunged  her  into  despair  the  moment  she  looked  at  it. 
She  had  the  most  terrific  attacks  of  melancholy,  during 
which  she  lay  on  her  bed,  stared  at  the  ceiling,  and 
refused  to  answer  when  any  one  addressed  her.  She 
seemed  to  be  in  a  semi-comatose  condition  ;  nothing 
appealed  to  her  ;  nothing  interested  her  ;  nothing  seemed 
worth  the  raising  of  a  hand  to  avert  or  to  obtain.  Her 
meals,  which  were  served  in  her  room,  she  sent  awav 
untouched  ;  and  Aleck's  anxious  messages  she  left  unan- 
swered. The  doctor  whom  he  sent  to  call  upon  her  had 
to  prescribe  something  to  save  his  own  self-respect ;  but 
it  was  obvious  to  Aleck  that  he  was  as  much  puzzled  as 
the  rest.  One  remark,  however,  which  he  let  fall  became, 
in  later  years,  charged  with  significance. 

"  She  has  poor  nerves,"  the  doctor  said. 

"Poor  nerves!"  exclaimed  Aleck,  resentfully.  It 
seemed  to  him  an  impertinence,  on  the  doctor's  part,  to 
assert  that  anything  belonging  to  Gertie  was  poor. 

"Yes,  most  of  our  young  women  have  poor  nerves," 
declared  the  leech,  impassively  ;  "  some  inherit  a  shat- 
tered nervous  system,  some  shatter  it  themselves." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

But,  as  if  to  refute  this  unpleasant  insinuation,  Gertrude 
appeared  at  dinner  that  night,  clothed  and  in  her  right 
mind  ;  and  showed  no  other  effects  of  her  fast  than  a  cer- 
tain lassitude  and  a  weary  acquiescence  in  everything  that 
was  said  or  proposed  to  her.  Aleck  was  so  overjoyed  to 
see  her,  when  he  called  in  the  evening,  that  he  could 
hardly  restrain  his  emotion. 

"You  have  given  us  an  awful  fright,  Gertie,"  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  gazed  into  her  unresponsive  eyes,  and 
pressed  her  hands,  warmly. 

"Whom?"  she  inquired,  listlessly. 

"  Me,"  he  answered,  flushing  with  pleasure,  as  a  faint 
smile  curled  her  lips. 

"  I  hope  you  are  very  well,  now." 

"Yes,  very  well." 

If  she  had  said  very  ill,  she  could  not  have  said  it  more 
despondently. 

"Why  do  you  speak  that  way,  dear  ?  Why  don't  you 
brace  up  and  tell  me  you  are  glad  to  see  me  ? " 

"Life,  life,  life  !"  she  murmured  absently,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  she  was  echoing  Dr.  Hawk. 

"  Tell  me  why  you  are  so  sad,  dear.  Is  there  anything 
I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"No,  nothing." 

Her  listlessness  cut  him  to  the  heart.  To  speak  to 
her  was  like  butting  against  a  stone  wall.  Yet  he  returned 
to  the  charge  once  more,  determined,  if  possible,  to  rouse 
her  from  her  apathy. 

"Don't  you  think,  Gertie,"  he  asked,  quietly,  "that  I 
have  deserved  a  little  consideration  from  you  ?  Couldn't 
you  confide  in  me  a  little  bit  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  mutely,  while  her  eyes  slowly  filled. 

"  Aleck,"  she  cried,  breaking  into  a  storm  of  sobs, 
"Don't  you  see  what  a  miserable,  worthless  thing  I  am  ?" 

She  flung  herself  down  on  the.  sofa,  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  and  abandoned  herself  to  her  grief.  He 
always  felt  helpless  in  the  presence  of  a  weeping  woman  ; 
and  half  guilty  because  of  his  helplessness.  He  stood 
looking  at  her,  his  gentle  face  distorted  with  acute  dis- 
tress. He  noted  how  her  shoulders  shook,  and  he  noted 
too  the  deep  groove  in  her  neck  where  the  back  hair  was 
gathered  up  ;  and  he  could  not  have  told  why  he  became 
possessed  with  an  irrational  desire  to  stoop  down  and  kiss 
it.  There  was  something  appealing  and  childlike  in  thnt 
neck  which  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes  and  thrilled  him 
18 


2/4  THE  MAMMON 

with  a  yearning  tenderness.  He  made  no  attempt  to  con- 
sole her  ;  knowing  that  it  would  be  vain.  But  when  the 
first  vehemence  of  her  emotion  had  spent  itself,  he  seated 
himself  at  her  side  and  slipped  his  hand  into  hers.  She 
feebly  returned  its  pressure,  and  grew  calmer.  It  was  as 
if  his  touch  soothed  and  comforted  her.  After  a  while 
she  raised  herself  into  a  sitting  posture  and  began  to  fum- 
ble for  her  handkerchief.  She  looked  persistently  away 
from  him  until  she  had  found  it.  Then  she  did  it  up  into 
a  little  ball  and  pressed  it  against  her  eyes.  "  You  mustn't 
mind  my  foolishness,  Aleck,"  she  said,  catching  her 
breath,  like  a  child  who  has  been  crying.  "You  know  I 
can't  help  it.  I'm  so  miserable." 

There  was  imminent  danger  of  another  outbreak,  but 
Aleck,  in  his  anxiety  to  prevent  it,  put  his  arm  about  her 
waist  and  drew  her  unresistingly  toward  him,  and  then  her 
wondrous  head  lay  upon  his  breast,  and  her  warm  breath 
wandered  over  his  face.  Oh,  how  beautiful  she  was  !  How 
touchingly  beautiful  and  precious  !  The  pure  blue  depth 
of  her  eyes,  with  the  strange  flame-like  lines  in  the  iris, 
was  so  innocent,  so  devoid  of  reflection.  He  marvelled  at 
his  own  audacity — that  he  could  hold  her  thus — feel  her 
heart  beat  against  his — and  yet  the  earth  continued  on  its 
ancient  round  and  the  sun  stood  unmoved  in  the  heavens. 
The  stars  did  not  break  into  a  jubilant  paean,  as  they  might 
have  been  expected  to  do,  in  order  to  celebrate  so  great  an 
event.  The  eternal,  beautiful  mystery  of  sex,  which  to  a 
pure-minded,  virginal  man  like  Aleck  was  doubly  myste- 
rious, filled  him  with  reverential  tenderness.  He  loved  this 
girl,  had  loved  her  as  long  as  he  could  remember.  He  had 
seen  her  and  talked  with  her  daily  for  many  years.  And  yet 
there  was  something  remote  and  strange  about  her,  some- 
thing divinely  awe-inspiring  ;  because  she  was  that  wonder- 
ful, inscrutable,  exquisite,  and  adorable  thing— a  woman. 
Aleck  was  thrilled  with  this  consciousness  ;  she  was  not 
his  cousin  Gertie  whom  he  had  known  and  quarrelled 
with  in  Torryville  ;  but  she  was  a  lovely  embodiment  of 
a  sublime  fact  of  Nature.  She  was  born  to  suffer  as  he 
would  never  suffer.  She  was  born  to  be  loved  as  he 
could  never  be  loved.  She  was  the  last  and  best  pinnacle 
of  God's  works  ;  the  supreme  result  of  God's  creative  in- 
telligence. 

Aleck  made  no  attempt  to  formulate  these  feelings  as 
they  surged  through  his  soul.  His  head  was  in  a  whirl  ; 
he  thought  with  a  delicious  dimness  ;  but  he  felt  with  a 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2?$ 

delicious  acuteness.  He  did  not  speak,  for  it  seemed  a 
pity  to  mar  such  a  glorious  fulness  of  feeling  with  poor 
shrill  words.  This  high-tide  of  pure  emotion  and  noble 
bliss  comes  but  once  in  a  life,  while  the  soul  is  young  and 
the  heart  unspoiled,  and  to  the  great  crowd  of  super- 
civilized  creatures  it  comes  never  at  all.  The  golden  age 
survives  in  a  few  hearts,  and  the  tree  of  life  still  yields  a 
noble  fruit  to  the  man  and  the  woman  whom  God  created, 
and  it  can  never  lose  its  sweetness.  Aleck  found  himself 
drawn  by  an  irresistible  force  closer  and  closer  to  the  girl 
who  lay  in  his  arms  ;  he  bent  his  head  over  her  and  he 
kissed  her  again  and  again.  She  uttered  no  protest,  but, 
looked  at  him  with  eyes  full  of  dewy  brightness.  It  was  a 
luxury  to  her  to  feel  his  protecting  arm,  to  see  the  sweet  af- 
fection that  beamed  out  of  his  eyes,  to  hear  the  caressing  mur- 
mur of  his  voice,  as  he  told  her  of  his  love.  She  was  con- 
scious of  no  wild  ineffable  delight  such  as  his.  There  was 
little  of  the  divine  flutter  and  agitation  such  as  she  had 
experienced  when  she  pledged  herself  to  Hawk.  She  was 
like  a  storm-beaten  dove  that  tumbles  wearily  into  an  open 
doorway  and  rests,  rejoicing  in  its  security.  If  Gertrude 
had  not  been  fond  of  Aleck  she  would  not  have  accepted 
the  refuge  he  offered  her  ;  but  she  had  no  clear  idea  of  any- 
thing except  an  imperious  desire  to  be  rid  of  the  responsi- 
bility for  her  own  future.  She  thought,  perhaps,  she  loved 
him.  The  kindness  she  felt  toward  him  ;  the  respect  she  ' 
entertained  for  his  character  ;  and  above  all  her  trust  in  his 
good,  staunch,  faithful  heart  may  have  appeared  to  her 
hardly  distinguishable  from  love. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  made  a  bad  bargain,  dear,"  she 
said  to  him,  smiling  with  languid  radiance.  "  I  am  a  poor, 
useless  thing,  and  I  shan't  be  any  help  to  you  at  all." 

"•My  sweet  girl,"  he  cried,  and  it  seemed  as  if  his  heart 
must  burst  with  happiness.  "  My  darling  girl  !  " 

"  Poor  Aleck,"  she  murmured,  with  an  expression  half 
tender,  half  compassionate.  "  My  poor  Aleck  ! " 

He  did  not  suspect  that  she  was  thinking  of  Dr.  Hawk, 
and  pitying  him  that  he  could  enjoy  with  such  rapture  the 
leavings  from  another's  table.  For  she  was  no  longer  in 
her  own  sight  as  precious,  as  proudly  unattainable  as  she 
had  been.  She  could  not  quite  get  rid  of  an  uneasy  sense 
of  guilt,  as  her  memory  stung  her  with  dimly  remembered 
scenes.  Was  she  not  defrauding  this  dear,  guileless  cousin 
of  hers  in  allowing  him  to  quaff  the  turbid  goblet  she  was 
holding  to  his  lips  as  if  it  were  the  bright,  immortal  nectar  ? 


2/6  THE  MAMMON" 

And  yet,  why  should  she  spoil  his  ecstacy  ?  Why  begrudge 
him  the  full  measure  of  his  joy  ? 

She  lay  long  passively  in  his  arms,  smiling  at  him  with 
the  same  dewy  brightness,  accepting  his  passionate  ca- 
resses, feeling  the  blood  surge  with  a  luxurious  fulness 
through  her  veins.  She  arose  at  the  sound  of  an  imagi- 
nary knock  at  the  door  ;  and  then  the  mood  was  spoiled 
and  did  not  return.  They  walked  for  half  an  hour  arm  in 
arm  up  and  down  the  floor,  and  discussed  rationally  their 
plans  for  the  future.  It  was  decided  that  they  were  to 
marry  without  delay,  and  Aleck  was  to  write  to  Mr.  Lar- 
kin  and  ask  his  consent.  If  this  consent  was  withheld, 
they  concluded  to  notify  Mr.  Larkin  of  the  marriage  after 
it  was  consummated.  Of  course,  they  would  have  to  com- 
mence their  house-keeping  in  a  small  way;  for  Aleck  was 
scarcely  making  a  living  for  himself,  nor  were  his  pros- 
pects particularly  brilliant.  Gertie,  with  all  her  accom- 
plishments, was  not  an  eminent  economist,  and  knew  about 
as  much  of  the  value  of  money  as  she  knew  of  differential 
calculus.  The  $3,200  which  Aleck  had  brought  with  him 
from  Torryville,  and  which  constituted  his  entire  worldly 
possessions,  appeared  to  her  quite  an  imposing  sum,  and 
the  deplorable  fact  that  about  $800  had  to  be  deducted  for 
excess  of  expenditure  over  income  since  his  arrival  in  New 
York  made  no  perceptible  impression  upon  her.  She  was 
ready  for  every  sacrifice  ;  nay,  gloried  in  the  prospect  of 
poverty  and  self-immolation,  because  she  hoped  in  that 
way  to  make  up  her  sentimental  account  with  Aleck.  She 
did  not  hint,  even  to  herself,  that  she  had  taken  him  as  a 
pis  aller;  but  she  felt  that,  compared  to  the  great  and  rapt- 
urous love  which  he  had  flung  at  her  feet,  the  sentiment 
which  she  entertained  for  him  was  a  feeble  and  worthless 
thing  ;  and  it  was  therefore  a  satisfaction  that  the  future 
would  afford  her  a  chance  of  doing  penance. 

A  week  after  the  day  of  their  engagement  Aleck  and 
Gertrude  were  married,  without  having  heard  from  Mr. 
Larkin.  They  went  to  a  Congregational  clergyman  in 
Brooklyn,  in  company  with  two  members  of  the  Press  Club, 
who  acted  as  witnesses.  They  went  on  a  wedding  journey 
on  the  elevated  road  to  High  Bridge  and  Washington 
Heights,  and  after  having  boarded  for  a  week,  hired  a 
pretty  flat  of  four  rooms  and  kitchen  in  the  seventh  story 
of  the  Patagonia  apartment  house.  About  that  time  Aleck 
met  by  chance  Henry  Thurlow,  a  former  classmate  of  his 
in  Larkin  University,  who  was  about  to  found  a  school 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

for  boys  in  the  region  on  the  west  side  of  Central  Park. 
They  had  not  been  particularly  congenial  in  their  college 
dnys  ;  but  they  now  took  a  great  liking  to  each  other,  and 
the  end  of  it  was  that  Aleck  accepted  an  engagement  from 
Thurlow,  as  teacher  of  English  and  history,  at  a  salary  of 
$1,200  a  year.  The  problem  of  bare  existence  was  thus 
preliminarily  solved  ;  if  there  was  one  man  in  the  city  of 
New  York  who  was  supremely  happy,  that  man  was  Alex- 
ander Larkin, 


2/8  THE  MAMMON' 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

HORACE    GOES   A   WOOING. 

When  the  Honorable  Horace  Larkin  heard  of  his  brother's 
marriage,  his  first  reflection  was  that  Aleck  must  in  some 
way  have  gotten  a  glimpse  of  his  uncle's  will.  He  could 
not  otherwise  have  committed  the  folly  of  marrying  so  dis- 
agreeable a  girl  as  Gertrude  ;  for  Horace  had  always  pro- 
fessed inability  to  discover  any  charm  in  Gertrude.  On 
second  thought,  however,  lie  receded  from  this  opinion, 
first,  because  he  did  not  see  how  his  brother  could  have 
gained  the  intelligence  he  attributed  to  him  ;  and  secondly 
because,  with  his  generous  Quixotism,  Aleck  would  be 
perfectly  capable  of  walking  straight  into  the  trap  which 
that  artfully  innocent  minx  of  a  girl  had  set  for  him.  She 
had  by  this  time  found  out  that  Hawk  was  a  knave,  Horace 
reasoned,  and  having  grown  tired  of  him  had  deliberately 
involved  Aleck  in  her  toils.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the 
honorable  legislator  would  have  entertained  a  higher  re- 
spect for  his  brother,  if  he  had  speculated  in  Gertrude's 
affection  with  an  eye  to  securing  her  fortune.  It  was  a 
great  question,  however,  whether  such  a  speculation  would 
have  proved  profitable  ;  for  the  old  man  was  quite  capable 
of  punishing  his  daughter's  disobedience  by  substituting 
some  other  name  for  hers  in  his  last  will  and  testament. 
Horace  was,  however,  for  the  time  being,  too  absorbed  in 
his  own  affairs  to  be  greatly  perturbed  by  any  body  else's 
blunders.  He  had  scarcely  been  a  month  in  the  legisla- 
ture before  he  was  recognized  as  a  considerable  person- 
age. He  made  very  little  noise;  disappointed  frequently 
by  his  vote  those  of  his  constituents  who  had  supported 
him  because  he  was  "a  gentleman,"  and  played  a  discreet 
but  skilful  game  with  the  one  view  of  obtaining  power. 
The  lobbyists  who  approached  him  with  corrupt  proposi- 
tions could  never  quite  make  out  whether  he  was  too  high- 
toned  to  be  bribed  or  was  holding  out  fora  higher  figure. 
He  displayed  no  moral  indignation  ;  but  fenced  dexter- 
ously with  jokes  and  humorous  anecdotes.  Some  main- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  2/9 

tained  that  he  made  fun  of  them  to  their  faces ;  others 
(where  it  served  his  purpose  to  make  that  impression)  re- 
garded him  as  a  harmless,  jolly  dog  who  had  gone  into 
politics  chiefly  for  his  amusement.  For  all  that  the  im- 
pression gradually  gained  ground  that  he  was  too  rich  to 
be  bribed ;  and  his  colleagues  were  inclined  to  concede 
that  under  such  circumstances  honesty  was  not  a  bad 
policy. 

It  was  during  a  legislative  recess  about  Easter  that 
Horace  resolved  to  carry  out  a  plan  which,  since  his  de- 
parture from  Torryville,  had  never  been  absent  from  his 
mind.  He  had  asked  Kate  Van  Schaak,  when  he  took 
leave  of  her  at  the  railroad  station,  whether  she  would 
permit  him  to  call  upon  her  in  New  York  ;  and  she  had, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  granted  him  the  permission. 
Knowing  well  the  import  of  this  diplomatic  pause,  he  had 
concluded  not  to  be  in  a  hurry  ;  and  Kate  began  to  fear 
that  she  had  overdone  her  diplomacy  when  the  whole 
winter  had  passed  without  his  darkening  her  doorway. 
She  thought  of  him  frequently,  sometimes  with  pleasure, 
sometimes  with  irritation.  She  found  it  hard  to  forgive 
him  for  appearing  to  hold  in  such  light  esteem  a  privilege 
which  she  granted  to  so  few.  She  could  not  quite  make 
up  her  mind  whether  she  liked  or  disliked  him  ;  she  would 
have  been  grateful  to  any  one  who  could  have  settled  that 
question  for  her.  He  had  invaded  her  life,  as  the  Goths 
and  Vandals  did  the  well-ordered,  civilized  Roman  Em- 
pire, and  it  was  impossible  to  get  rid  of  him  again.  He 
was  a  man  whom  one  could  hate,  but  not  ignore.  Nay, 
he  was  a  man,  who,  if  he  were  a  little  more  civilized,  she 
would  be  capable  of  loving. 

Kate  was  sitting  with  her  writing  desk  on  her  lap,  in- 
dicting a  letter  to  a  young  curate  whom  she  permitted  to 
draw  upon  her  for  a  stated  monthly  sum,  in  aid  of  his 
charities.  Having  finished  the  letter  in  a  clear  English 
caligraphy  (which  was  full  of  character  and  very  different 
from  the  high-shouldered  American  girl's  hand)  she  signed 
a  check  for  $250  and  directed  the  envelope.  She  heard  the 
butler's  knock  at  the  door  and  bade  him  enter.  The  card 
which  he  presented  upon  the  silver  salver  bore  the  name 
Horace  Larkin.  She  noted  the  absence  of  Mr.  and  the 
florid,  Gaskel  compendium  style  of  script,  which  was  no 
longer  in  fashion. 

"  Tell  the  gentleman  I'll  be  down  presently,"  she  said, 
stooping  to  hide  the  blush  that  sprang  to  her  cheek. 


28O  THE  MAMMON 

It  was  so  contrary  to  her  principles  to  betray  eagerness 
to  see  any  one  that  she  lingered  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes 
before  the  mirror,  arranging  her  hair,  shaking  the  skirt  of 
her  dress  into  the  proper  folds,  contemplating  her  back 
view  in  a  hand  glass,  perfuming  her  handkerchief,  and 
judging  critically  the  effect  of  each  decorative  touch  she 
bestowed  upon  her  stately  person.  She  wore  a  dress  of 
dull  blue  stuff,  of  perfect  fit,  cut  with  impressive  sim- 
plicity, and  with  a  royal  amplitude  in  the  train.  She  de- 
scended the  stairs,  and  with  Olympian  serenity  entered 
the  parlor  and  greeted  her  visitor.  He  had  spent  his  time 
while  waiting  in  studying  the  room,  the  magnificence  of 
which  he  was  not  connoisseur  enough  to  appreciate.  It 
was  finished  in  white  and  gold  in  the  style  of  the  directoire. 
One  wall  was  covered  with  a  gobelin  tapestry  of  the  most 
exquisite  workmanship  and  coloring,  representing  an 
eighteenth  century  fete  champetre  full  of  delightful  rococo 
frivolity.  Every  piece  of  furniture,  even  including  the 
piano,  which  was  finished  in  inlaid  work  and  white  enamel, 
carried  out  the  same  effect,  uniting  into  an  indescribably 
rich  and  harmonious  tout  ensemble.  There  were  pictures 
upon  the  wall,  not  one  of  which  was  allowed  to  obtrude 
itself,  though  there  was  not  one  which  was  not  worthy  of 
minute  study.  There  was  a  Jerome,  a  Bouguereau,  and 
two  charming  Corots. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Larkin,"  said  the  dam- 
sel whose  taste  had  found  expression  in  this  chaste  splen- 
dor ;  "  won't  you  please  be  seated  ?  " 

She  spoke  with  just  the  proper  degree  of  friendliness, 
but  quietly  and  without  effusion.  He  had  meant  to  say 
something  significant,  as  he  grasped  her  hand  ;  but  the 
cool  serenity  of  her  manner  chilled  him,  and  made  him 
conclude  not  prematurely  to  expose  his  intentions.  He — 
Horace  Larkin — was  too  important  a  person  to  be  trifled 
with  ;  and  you  could  never  tell  what  a  girl  of  this  kind 
might  do. 

"  Political  life  seems  to  agree  with  you,"  she  continued, 
seating  herself  in  a  white  tapestried  chair  opposite  to  him  ; 
"  yoTi  look  well ;  you  have  the  air  of  a  conqueror." 

"  Then  my  air  belies  me,"  he  answered,  throwing  his 
resolution  to  the  winds;  "for  in  your  presence  I  feel  like 
one  conquered." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Larkin,"  she  rejoined  with  her  calm,  beauti- 
ful smile,  "you  have  not  lost  your  cleverness  at  repartee, 
I  observe.  But  you  ought  to  remember  that  I  am  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  28 1 

cousin  of  Bella  Robbins,  and  I  might  take  it  into  my  head 
to  report  to  her  some  of  your  fine  speeches." 

"  I  have  no  objection,"  he  replied  with  a  recklessness 
which  he  was  far  from  feeling;  "though  I  doubt  if  it 
would  be  a  kindness  to  her." 

Kate  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  deepening  seri- 
ousness. She  did  not  quite  know  how  to  interpret  that 
remark. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said,  with  an  assumed  lightness  of  man- 
ner, "that  I  violate  no  confidence  if  I  tell  you  that  I  know 
of  your  engagement.'* 

"  Then  you  know  more  than  I  do.  I  am  no  longer  en- 
gaged to  Miss  Robbins." 

She  sat  still  as  a  statue  for  two  or  three  seconds,  and 
not  a  gleam  of  the  joy  that  flared  up  within  her  was  re- 
flected in  her  face.  His  engagement  had  not  presented 
itself  to  her  as  a  serious  obstacle,  if  she  should  conclude 
to  encourage  his  advances  ;  but  still  its  rupture  seemed, 
in  a  way,  providential,  and  cleared  away  a  host  of  doubts. 

"  I  am  afraid  poor  Bella  will  take  that  very  much  to 
heart,"  she  said,  in  her  most  conventional  tones  ;  "she  was 
quite  fond  of  you." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  answering  jocosely  that  she  was 
neither  the  first  nor  would  she  be  the  last ;  but  the  inap- 
propriateness  of  this  became  suddenly  apparent  to  him,  as 
he  glanced  about  the  room.  That  kind  of  frontier  humor 
required  a  different  setting  from  the  white  and  gold  a  la 
directoire. 

"  It  was  a  sad  affair  to  us  both,"  he  finally  replied  ;  "  I 
mistook  her  ;  she  mistook  me." 

Kate  got  up  and  rustled  about  the  room  in  search  of  some- 
thing. The  very  noise  of  her  skirts,  somehow,  seemed  to 
him  delicious.  A  woman  who  moved  with  such  pomp  and 
circumstance — whose  simplest  act  bore  the  impress  of  a 
stately  self-respect — by  God's  rood  that  was  the  kind  of 
woman  he  would  like  to  attach  to  his  life,  to  enrich,  widen,, 
and  dignify  it.  He  began  to  feel  a  little  bit  ashamed  of 
his  origin,  as  it  dawned  upon  him  how  supremely  civilized 
and  refined  Kate  was  in  comparison  with  him.  How  poor 
and  sordid  his  past  had  been  ;  how  simple  his  aspira- 
tions ;  how  crude  his  ideals  !  Rustic  though  he  was,  he 
did  not  fail  to  perceive  that  she  carried  her  head  as  no 
other  woman  did  whom  he  had  ever  looked  upon.  And 
how  exquisitely  finished  she  was  as  to  ears,  and  nails,  and 
hands !  And  could  anything  be  more  perfect  in  its  way, 


282  THE  MAMMON- 

/ 

than  that  self-contained  face,  with  its  pure  and  placid 
beauty. 

Horace  made  these  reflections  while  the  object  of  his 
admiration  went  to  the  piano  and  picked  up  a  small  gold 
bottle  of  smelling  salts.  She  had  broken  off  the  conversa- 
tion just  long  enough  to  afford  the  painful  topic  time  for 
a  decent  burial.  As  she  again  seated  herself,  the  sweet 
faint  perfume  that  enveloped  her  was  wafted  toward  him 
and  the  impression  of  her  rich  and  rare  quality  became 
overwhelmingly  vivid.  It  was  a  new  experience  for  this 
self-complacent,  supercilious  villager  to  entertain,  as  he 
did  in  this  moment,  a  doubt  of  his  own  admirableness  and 
a  lurking  suspicion  that  he  had,  perhaps,  been  deceived  in 
himself  ;  that,  possibly,  he  was  a  little  crude.  But  such  as 
he  was,  he  meant  to  try  for  this  prize  with  all  his  might, 
and  if  there  was  strength  and  talent  and  virtue  in  him,  he 
was  resolved  to  strain  them  to  the  utmost  in  this  enterprise. 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Larkin,"  Kate  began  with  the  air  of  in- 
troducing anew  topic,  "  why  do  you  think  it  is  that  so  few 
of  our  young  men  of  good  family  and  education  go  into 
politics  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  Horace  replied  in  his  leisurely  drawl,  "  because 
they  are  not  fit  for  politics.  They  don't  know  enough." 

"  Why,  you  surprise  me  !  Is  it  your  opinion,  then,  that 
those  individuals  from  the  liquor  saloons  and  the  slums 
who  do  govern  us  are  the  fittest  to  govern  ? " 

"  No,  they  are  deplorably  unfit,  but  yet  fitter  than  Anglo- 
maniacs  and  blue-blooded  Knickerbockers  \vho  squander 
their  lives  in  laborious  and  vapid  amusements,  in  coaching, 
riding  after  hounds,  yawning  in  club  windows,  and  in  a 
hundred  other  ways  aping  the  English  aristocracy  on  a 
small  and  contemptible  scale.  The  majority  of  our  poli- 
ticians are  a  low-lived  lot,  and  many  of  them  corrupt.  But 
they  have  the  courage  to  be  American — crudely  and  un- 
compromisingly American — and  that  is,  in  my  eyes,  a  vir- 
tue which  is  not  to  be  lightly  rated." 

"  And  may  I  ask,  Mr.  Larkin,  what  do  you  mean  by  being 
American  ?" 

"  Being  frankly,  ably,  enterprisingly  plebeian.  It  is  the 
plebeian  after  all,  who  shall  inherit  the  earth— 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  According  to  the  Bible  it  is  the 
meek." 

"  I  must  differ  with  the  Bible,  then  ;  for  the  meek,  in  my 
experience,  if  they  inherit  anything,  never  manage  to  keep 
it.  It  passes,  sooner  or  later,  into  the  hands  of  the  strong, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  283 

the  self-assertive,  the  grasping..  But  these,  as  you  will  ad- 
mit, are  plebeian  characteristics.  A  universally  prosperous, 
comfortable,  impudent,  and  enterprising  mob — that  is  the 
goal  toward  which  we  are  steering  ;  and  in  my  opinion  it 
is  a  good  and  desirable  one." 

It  gave  him  satisfaction  to  enunciate  these  Jacobin  senti- 
ments, in  all  their  naked  offensiveness,  because  he  was  in 
this  very  moment  in  danger  of  being  unfaithful  to  them. 
He  cherished  in  his  heart  a  vague  hostility  to  the  exclusive, 
aristocratic  world  which  he  was  aspiring  to  enter  ;  and  he 
resented  his  own  weakness  in  finding  that  desirable  which 
he  despised.  The  discussion  continued  for  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes  ;  and  he  managed,  as  before,  to  impress 
Kate  greatly  with  his  ability,  his  originality,  and  the  distinct- 
ness of  his  personality.  It  was  in  this  latter  quality  that  she 
discovered  his  charm.  His  ruthless,  slam-bang  style  of 
argument  was  such  an  entire  novelty  in  the  tepid,  well-re- 
gulated atmosphere  of  her  quiet  and  well-bred  existence. 
She  had  heard  no  man  speak  like  that.  And  she  believed 
that  the  man  who  could  speak  like  that  was  sufficiently  re- 
markable to  achieve  anything  upon  which  he  concentrated 
his  energies.  She  had  an  instinctive  perception  that  she 
was  herself  the  object  upon  which  his  energies  were  pre- 
liminarily concentrated.  And,  much  as  she  rebelled  against 
the  conclusion,  she  was  inclined  to  believe  that  he  would 
also,  in  this  instance,  prove  more  than  a  match  for  her. 
She  liked  his  fearlessness  in  making  such  a  merciless  on- 
slaught on  her  prejudices.  He  was  as  original  as  a  wooer  as 
he  was  in  everything  else.  When  he  got  up  to  leave,  she 
gave  him  her  hand  with  extreme  graciousness  and  said  : 
"  I  hope,  Mr.  Larkin,  you  will  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  to  dinner,  to-morrow  night,  at  half  after  seven. 
I  should'  like  to  have  you  make  the  acquaintance  of  my 
father  and  mother  ;  and  I  shall  also  make  an  effort  to  get 
my  brother  Adrian  and  his  wife.  It  will  be  entirely  en 
famille" 

Horace  grew  nearly  pink  through  his  coarse,  weather- 
tanned  complexion,  as  he  uttered  the  conventional  phrase 
accepting  this  invitation.  It  was  impossible,  however 
much  as  he  steeled  himself  against  the  sentiment,  not  to 
feel  exceptionally  favored,  and  rise  a  trifle  in  one's  own 
estimation,  at  having  been  thought  worthy  to  breathe  this 
highly  sublimated  air  in  the  company  of  such  exclusive 
and  privileged  beings. 


284  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

THE    CROW   DINES   WITH    THE    PEACOCK. 

The  Van  Schaaks  always  dined  in  state.  They  rarely 
made  special  preparations  for  guests,  except  to  order  an 
extra  lot  of  flowers  ;  for  their  chef  was  an  eminent  man  in 
his  line,  and  was  daily  turning  out  culinary  chefs  (tceuvre. 
Old  Mr.  Van  Schaak  regarded  the  art  of  dining  as  one  of 
the  fine  arts,  and  suffered  the  penalty  of  his  devotion  to 
gastronomies  in  acute  periodic  attacks  of  gout.  He  never 
could  learn  wisdom,  however,  and  after  a  few  vain  efforts 
gave  up  the  attempt.  Terrapin,  canvas-back,  and  highly 
spiced  pate's  of  a  complex  and  dangerous  composition, 
were  to  him  what  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  are  to 
men  whose  susceptibilities  take  the  normal  direction.  He 
dressed  with  extreme  care,  bestowing  as  much  attention 
upon  his  toilet  as  if  he  had  been  a  reigning  belle.  A 
fresh  rosebud  was  never  missing  from  the  lapel  of  his 
coat.  The  curve  of  his  hat  brim  was  always  according  to 
the  latest  and  most  correct  taste.  He  was  five  feet  nine 
inches  high,  and  of  full  habit  ;  his  gait  and  bearing  were 
rather  pompous,  but,  like  every  man  absorbed  in  little 
things,  he  was  fussy  and  somewhat  irritable.  His  neat, 
round  head,  which  was  a  little  flattened  on  the  top,  was 
covered  with  curly  gray  hair,  in  a  fairly  good  state  of 
preservation  ;  and  his  fat,  serious  face  had  an  extra  capil- 
lary adornnlent  in  the  shape  of  a  mustache,  likewise  gray, 
with  ends  carefully  twisted. 

Kate,  who  was  a  good  judge  of  character,  did  not  deceive 
herself  with  the  idea  that  this  pink  of  Knickerbocker 
propriety  would  take  kindly  to  the  gentleman  from  Torry- 
ville,  whom  she  had  invited  to  dinner.  She  had  to  ex- 
plain her  motives  at  some  length,  urging,  among  other 
things,  the  wealth  and  importance  of  the  Larkin  family, 
and  her  duty  to  repay  the  attentions  she  had  accepted 
from  them  during  her  visit  with  her  uncle.  When  Hor- 
ace arrived  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Van  Schaak  was  therefore 
reconciled  to  his  existence,  though  he  yet  found  it  annoy- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  285 

ing  to  have  to  dine  unknown  people  of  questionable  ante- 
cedents. The  fact  that  his  guest  was  a  member  of  the 
Assembly  was  particularly  distasteful  to  the  old  gentle- 
man ;  and  when  Horace  entered  with  his  usual  sans  cert- 
monie  air,  and  on  being  presented  shook  his  hand  with 
rural  cordiality,  Mr.  Van  Schaak  retired  like  a  turtle  into 
his  shell  and  was  only  reluctantly  polite.  Mrs.  Van 
Schaak,  whose  view  of  the  world  did  not  differ  much  from 
that  of  her  husband,  inquired  with  seeming  interest  about 
the  geography,  climate,  and  products  of  Torryville,  as  if  it 
had  been  a  foreign  country,  and  asked  him  when  he 
meant  to  return  "  to  the  West."  She  was  a  large  and 
stately  lady,  about  fifty  years  of  age,  with  gray  puffs, 
plump  face,  and  a  nose  somewhat  pronounced,  carried  at 
an  angle  expressive  of  fastidiousness  and  disdain.  She 
was  handsome,  but  looked  as  if  she  could  be  unpleasant 
in  private.  On  Horace  she  had  a  most  depressing  influ- 
ence, and  he  felt  a  continual  impulse  to  glance  into  the 
looking-glass  to  see  if  anything  was  the  matter  with  his 
costume.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  him  when  Adrian  Van 
Schaak,  Jr.,  arrived  with  his  wife  ;  for  a  fresh  breeze  seemed 
to  enter  with  him,  and  the  conversation  started  up  like  a 
blaze  out  of  ashes.  This  was  not  due  to  the  rather  dull 
and  portly  young  man  himself,  however,  but  to  the  lively 
little  lady  upon  whom  he  had  bestowed  his  name.  She 
played  at  ducks  and  drakes  with  the  family  dignity,  in 
the  opinion  of  her  elders,  and  in  her  determination  to  be 
amused  threw  all  other  considerations  to  the  wind.  She 
asked  Horace  ten  questions  before  he  had  time  to  answer 
one  ;  declared,  under  the  impression  that  he  came  from 
some  remote  locality,  that  the  West  was  awfully  jolly,  and 
confided  to  him,  at  the  end  of  five  minutes  that  she 
thought  Eastern  society  frightfully  slow.  It  turned  out, 
presently,  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  those  great 
California  millionaires  who  had  fled  from  the  wrath  to 
come,  when  Kearney  and  the  sand-lotters  seemed  in  a 
fair  way  to  gain  control  of  the  State.  She  had  diamonds 
which  it  would  have  made  a  woman  ill  to  look  at,  if  her 
bony  neck  and  shoulders  had  not  had  the  effect  of  a  consola- 
tion. She  was  not-  pretty,  but  carried  herself  as  if  she 
thought  she  was.  Her  expression  after  each  one  of  her 
reckless  speeches  was  a  bid  for  applause  ;  and  if  she 
failed  to  get  it,  she  showed  her  displeasure. 

"  I   do  hope  you   are  going  to  take  me  out  to  dinner, 
Mr.   Harkness,"  she  said  to   Horace,  as  soon  as  she   had 


286  THE  MAMMON 

ascertained  that  he  possessed  the  gift  of  speech  ;  "  you 
know,  my  father-in-law  always  lectures  me  on  the  error  of 
my  ways,  when  he  gets  a  chance  at  me  ;  and  I  don't  like 
that,  would  you  ?  " 

"Your  father-in-law  must  be  very  hard  to  please,  if  he 
can  find  anything  to  criticise  in  you,"  said  Horace,  with 
polite  mendacity.  He  honestly  believed  that  truth  could 
exist  only  among  men,  and  that  sincerity,  if  practiced  to- 
ward women,  would  wreck  civilization. 

"There  !  didn't  I  say  so  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Van  Schaak,  with 
vivacity  ;  "  I  am  going  to  tell  him  that,  as  sure  as  you  live. 
I  have  always  suspected  that  I  was  an  unappreciated 
woman,  and  when  so  great  an  authority  as  you  agrees  with 
me — that  simply  settles  it." 

A  tall  blond  gentleman  with  English  side-whiskers  and 
a  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  his  head,  here  made  his  bow  to 
the  hostess  and  was  introduced  to  Horace  as  Mr.  Suydam. 
Mrs.  Van  Schaak,  Jr.,  added,  sotto  voce,  that  he  was  im- 
mensely rich.  He  had  inherited  Broadway  and  Fifth  Av- 
enue property  which  piled  up  millions  for  him  at  a  dizzy- 
ing rate.  He  kept  a  clerk  whose  sole  business  was  cutting 
off  coupons.  He  was  simply  wild  about  Kate,  and  the 
chances  were  that  sooner  or  later  he  would  marry  her.  All 
this  the  indiscreet  little  lady  managed  to  impart  to  Horace 
in  less  than  a  minute,  W7hile  the  company  rose  and  each 
moved  toward  his  predestined  partner.  A  little  middle- 
aged  woman,  who  looked  as  if  she  disapproved  of  the  plan 
of  creation,  had  in  the  meanwhile  made  her  appearance, 
quite  noiselessly,  and  been  presented  as  Miss  Terhune.  She 
found  herself,  by  an  unpleasant  necessity,  attached  to  Ad- 
rian Van  Schaak,  Jr.,  who  swore  inwardly,  but  outwardly  of- 
fered his  arm  with  irreproachable  politeness.  Horace,  too, 
was  inclined  to  rebel  against  Providence,  when  he  saw  the 
odious  Mr.  Suydam  march  off  with  Kate,  while  he  himself 
had  the  honor  of  bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  procession 
with  the  hostess.  It  was  something  of  a  compensation, 
however,  to  find  Kate  his  neighbor  "on  the  right,  and  to 
note  the  vivid  regret  expressed  in  the  face  of  Mrs.  Adrian, 
Jr.,  at  her  having  lost  him.  The  dining-room  was  palatial 
in  its  dimensions.  It  was  finished  in  oak,  with  game 
pieces  exquisitely  carved  on  each  panel  of  the  wall.  The 
ceiling,  which  was  also  of  oak,  was  one  mass  of  rich  and 
elaborate  carving.  A  corona  of  gas-jets  with  reflectors 
hung  high  up  above  the  heads  of  the  diners,  and  shed  a 
soft  radiance  downward.  At  the  windows  there  were  deep 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  287 

curtained  recesses  with  cushioned  seats,  which  invited  to 
amorous  confidences.  The  suspicion  which  had  been 
growing  upon  Horace  since  yesterday's  visit,  that  he  was 
a  hayseed  and  a  backwoods  man,  and  that  there  were  a 
multitude  of  things  which  lay  outside  of  his  philosophy, 
began  again  to  knock  at  the  door  of  his  mind,  and  de- 
mand admittance.  He  was  so  unused  to  humility  in  his 
estimate  of  himself  that  this  persistent  suspicion  made 
him  uncomfortable.  But  the  thought  again  suggested  it- 
self that  he  was  a  deuced  lot  cleverer  than  all  these  effete 
gentleman  put  together,  and  he  began  to  itch  to  assert 
himself,  so  as  to  give  them  a  proof  of  his  superiority. 
Dulness  had  so  far  reigned  supreme  at  the  table,  the  re- 
marks falling  in  languid  driblets,  glaringly  premeditated 
and  artificial.  Mrs.  Van  Schaak  had  inquired,  with  a 
bland  reserve  which  would  have  counteracted  any  tendency 
on  his  part  to  feel  flattered  by  her  interest,  where  he  was 
going  to  spend  the  summer,  where  he  spent  last  summer, 
and  whether  he  didn't  think  vulgar  people  were  a  great 
bore  ?  Mr.  Van  Schaak  had,  by  way  of  making  himself 
agreeable,  impressed  upon  his  daughter-in-law  the  impor- 
tance of  buying  her  pate  de  foie  gras  in  big  jars,  not  in  the 
small  ones,  because  the  latter  contained  really  an  inferior 
article,  and  he  was  just  launching  into  his  usual  prandial 
lecture  on  the  necessity  of  putting  away  and  mortifying 
the  old  plebeian  Adam  in  her  which  savored  of  California, 
and  cultivating  a  new  aristocratic  Adam  of  Knickerbocker 
reserve  and  propriety.  Kate  had  been  discussing  the  Jun- 
ior Patriarchs'  Ball  with  Mr.  Suydam,  and  for  the  sake  of 
drawing  Horace  into  the  conversation  reported  to  him  that 
gentleman's  last  remark. 

"  Mr.  Suydam  thinks,"  she  said  with  quiet  affability, 
"  that  the  Junior  Patriarchs'  will  have  to  be  given  up,  be- 
cause so  many  objectionable  people  manage  to  intrude 
there." 

Horace,  who  was  well  aware  that  he  was  himself,  from 
Mr.  Suydam's  point  of  view,  objectionable,  was  inclined 
to  accept  this  remark  as  a  challenge.  It  irritated  him  to 
see  this  vapid  and  self-important  snob  talk  confidentially 
with  Kate  about  subjects  from  which  he  was  of  necessity 
excluded.  He  resolved  to  break  a  lance  with  Mr.  Suydam, 
and  saw  here  his  opportunity. 

"Who  are  those  objectionable  people  ?"  he  asked,  not 
loudly,  but  yet  with  a  kind  of  bugle  note  in  his  voice  which 
roused  everyone  from  his  apathy. 


288  THE  MAMMON 

"Who  are  they,"  Suydam  repeated  with  astonishment  ; 
"•why  they  are  prosperous  trades-people  and  brokers  and 
creatures  whom  nobody  ever  heard  of  before." 

"  Excuse  me  if  1  appear  inquisitive,"  Horace  went  on, 
"but  who  is  nobody  ?" 

"  Now  really  you  quite  embarrass  me,  nobody  is — well 
—aw — I  referred  to  people  in  good  social  standing  like 
the  Van  Schaaks,  and  the  Livingstons,  and  your  humble 
servant,  if  you  like." 

"  That  is  rather  excessive  modesty  on  your  part,  I  should 
say.  I  should  never  have  presumed  to  call  you  nobody." 

It  was  a  cheap  joke,  of  course,  and  Horace  was  not  in 
the  least  proud  of  it.  But  in  that  dense  and  heavy  atmos- 
phere of  dull  propriety  which  pervaded  the  social  circle 
of  the  Van  Schaaks,  any  little  display  of  wit  made  a  sen- 
sation. Young  Adrian  looked  at  his  father,  with  a  strong 
inclination  to  laugh  ;  but  the  old  gentleman,  who  would 
countenance  no  such  levity,  coughed  into  his  napkin  and 
looked  more  shocked  than  amused.  Only  Mrs.  Adrian,  Jr., 
gave  a  ringing  laugh,  which  she  suddenly  checked  when 
she  perceived  that  no  one  joined  in  it.  Old  Mrs.  Adrian 
turned  her  eyes  upon  Horace  with  the  stare  of  a  loco- 
motive. In  order  to  relieve  the  embarrassment,  he  felt 
obliged  to  say  something. 

"It  is  a  curious  fact,"  he  said,  with  smiling  ease,  "  how 
little  we  are  capable  of  learning  from  history.  The  new 
man  and  the  new  nation  that  carries  the  future  in  its 
pocket  is  always  objectionable  to  the  venerable  aristoc- 
racy who,  as  somebody  has  said,  have  their  future  behind 
them." 

The  remark  was  addressed  to  the  company  in  general, 
but  nobody  seemed  disposed  to  take  it  up,  except  Mrs. 
Adrian,  Jr.,  who  exclaimed  gayly  : 

"  Ah,  now  you  are  getting  personal." 

Her  manner  was  so  inimitably  droll  that  Kate  could 
not  keep  from  laughing  ;  and  as  soon  as  she  had  given 
the  signal,  all  joined  with  one  accord.  This  unexpected 
approval  emboldened  Mrs.  Adrian. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  said,  "the  moment  I  saw  you  that  you 
had  something  weighty  in  your  pockets  ;  but  I  didn't  sus- 
pect it  was  the  future." 

"  Allow  me  to  compliment  you  on  your  perspicacity," 
said  Horace,  laughing. 

"  Thanks  !  But  from  this  time  forth  you  may  know  that 
my  eyes  are  upon  you.  I  shall  watch  to  see  the  great 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  289 

future  rise  from  your  pockets,  like  the  Afrit  from  the  jar 
in  the  Arabian  Nights." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  be  anything  so  frightful." 

"  No,  but  as  big." 

Old  Mr.  Van  Schaak,  who  failed  to  appreciate  this  sort 
of  chaff  chiefly  because  he  missed  the  points  of  the  jokes, 
here  addressed  himself  to  Horace  with  benevolent  su- 
periority. 

"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say,"  he  asked,  "  that  you 
liked  objectionable  people  ?  " 

That  was  as  near  as  he  ever  came  to  apprehending  a 
complex  sentiment. 

"Yes,"  said  Horace,  boldly  ;  "I  am  myself  a  plebeian, 
and  like  my  kind.  America  is  a  plebeian  state,  a  raw,  vig-, 
orous,  and  aggressive  new-comer  among  the  nations  oi 
the  earth,  and  all  the  venerable  lands  of  Europe  there- 
fore dislike  her — find  her  objectionable.  Why  not,  then, 
frankly  recognize  this  as  a  distinction  and  a  source  of 
strength,  instead  of  setting  up  a  little  mimic  aristocracy 
of  our  own,  which  can  be  knocked  down  with  the  great- 
est ease  by  a  few  hard-shell  facts  gleaned  from  history  ?  " 

Mr.  Van  Schaak  was  quite  unequal  to  a  discussion  of 
this  sort,  and  in  order  to  curb  his  indignation  drank  a 
glass  of  champagne.  But  he  sent  Suydam  a  glance  which 
was  an  unmistakable  exhortation  to  put  down  the  sacri- 
legious iconoclast. 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say,"  the  blonde  millionaire  began, 
"  that  Americans  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  their  ancestry." 

"  No,  I  was  just  trying  to  say  that  they  ought  not." 

Here  was  another  point  scored,  and  Mr.  Suydam,  seeing 
that  he  was  no  match  in  wit  for  Horace,  would  have 
relapsed  into  silence,  if  he  had  not  felt  the  exhorting 
glances  from  all  sides  which  appealed  to  him  to  step  into 
the  breach  as  the  champion  of  their  cause.  But  the  wine 
he  had  drank  and  his  fear  of  discomfiture  excited  him 
unduly  and  made  him  ill  at  ease. 

"When  I  hear  a  man  talk  as  you  do,"  he  said,  inso- 
lently, "I  always  suspect  that  his  own  ancestry  is  not 
much  to  brag  of." 

"  There  you  misapprehend  me  again,"  Horace  replied, 
with  his  calm  smile  ;  "I  do  brag  of  mine;  and  what  I 
deprecate  is  excuses  and  concealment.  My  father  was 
originally  a  saddler  ;  then  he  became  a  mason  and  some- 
thing of  an  inventor;  my  grandfather  was  a  farmer. 
They  lived  small  and  sordid  lives,  no  doubt  ;  and  their 
19 


2QO  THE  MAMMON 

manners,  I  suspect,  were  none  of  the  best ;  but  they  were 
good,  honest  people,  and  they  were  part  of  the  strength  of 
this  great  new,  raw-boned  continent  which  holds  your 
future  and  mine." 

There  was  a  pause  of  nearly  a  minute,  and  everyone 
ate  in  silence.  Mrs.  Van  Schaak  fixed  again  her  locomo- 
tive stare  on  Horace,  whose  superb,  smiling  imperturba- 
bility irritated  her  even  more  than  his  objectionable  ances- 
try. To  think  that  she  was  dining  a  man  whose  father 
had  been  a  saddler  ;  it  was  a  disgrace  which  it  would  take 
her  years  to  outlive.  She  discovered  suddenly  a  number  of 
plebeian  traits  about  her  guest  which  she  had  not  noticed 
before,  particularly  his  stiff,  stubbly  hair,  imperfectly 
parted  on  the  left  side,  the  barbaric  emphasis  and  direct- 
ness of  his  expression,  and  the  redness  and  clumsy  shape 
of  his  ears.  Then  he  wore  a  white  satin  necktie,  which 
was  indicative  of  questionable  antecedents.  She  cheer- 
fully left  to  her  daughter  the  task  of  entertaining  him  for 
the  remainder  of  the  dinner,  and  registered  a  mental  vow 
to  prevent  him  from  crossing  her  threshold  again. 

On  Kate  Horace's  avowal  of  his  plebeian  origin  made  a 
very  different  impression.  It  was  difficult  to  define  her 
sentiment  ;  but  she  felt  drawn  toward  him  and  repelled 
from  him  in  the  same  moment.  His  refusal  to  be  dazzled 
by  the  splendor  of  her  surroundings  pleased  her  ;  for  it 
was  not  the  callousness  of  the  barbarian  he  displayed, 
but  the  self-respect  of  the  man  who  is  conscious  of  his 
strength  and  who  is,  in  all  respects,  the  reverse  of  a  snob. 
It  was  delightful  to  her  to  see  him  hoist  his  plebeian 
standard  and  refuse  to  strike  it  before  any  power  in  the 
world.  Whatever  else  he  was,  she  said  to  herself  agair 
and  again,  he  was  emphatically  a  man.  And  among  hei 
acquaintances,  how  many  were  there  to  whom  that  title, 
in  its  full  meaning,  applied  ?  Suydam,  with  his  millions 
and  his  rigid  propriety,  faded  into  insignificance  beside 
him,  became  insipidly  blond  and  priggish. 

She  took  a  bud  from  the  great  bank  of  roses  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  table  and  pinned  it  in  Horace's  button-hole.  It 
was  an  attention  which  from  anybody  else  would  have 
meant  nothing  ;  but  from  one  so  chary  of  favors  as  Kate 
Van  Schaak,  it  was  like  the  declaration  of  intentions  which 
precedes  naturalization.  Horace,  who  had  done  his  woo- 
ing so  far  without  the  least  co-operation  on  her  part,  felt 
a  glow  of  pleasure  stealing  through  him,  but  took  care  to 
give  no  outward  signs  of  elation.  Kate  was  conscious 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  29 1 

too,  of  having  made  a  demonstration  ;  but  she  had 
intended  to  make  it,  and  awkwardness  was  a  sensation 
with  which  she  was  not  acquainted.  She  sat  and  talked 
serenely  with  him  of  the  Larkin  University,  of  the  sere- 
nade the  students  had  given  her,  of  the  beauties  of  spring 
in  Torryville,  and  there  was  something  in  her  personality 
which  made  the  most  commonplace  remarks  in  her  mouth 
appear  brilliant  and  impressive.  They  borrowed  some- 
thing from  her  rare  and  exquisite  self,  and  thereby  gained 
a  new  flavor. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  the  cigars  were  brought 
on  a  tray  of  beaten  copper,  upon  which  stood  a  winged 
genius  who  bit  off  the  ends,  and  a  Pompeian  lamp  which 
furnished  fire.  The  ladies  retired  to  the  drawing  room  ; 
Mrs.  Adrian,  Jr.,  making  a  little  grimace  to  Horace  in  the 
door  to  indicate  how  she  envied  him  the  pleasure  of  smok- 
ing. The  conversation  flagged,  and  long  awkward  gaps 
yawned  between  each  remark.  Mr.  Suydam  finally  tried 
to  give  Mr.  Van  Schaak  a  description  of  a  saddle  horse  he 
had  recently  bought;  and  Adrian,  Jr.,  insisted  that  if  that 
beast  turned  out  well,  he  was  no  judge  of  horse-flesh. 
They  got  into  a  tolerably  animated  dispute,  in  which 
Horace  did  not  participate.  He  was  glad  when  his  cigar 
was  finished,  which  gave  him  the  right  again  to  join  the 
ladies.  After  five  minutes'  stiff  and  colorless  talk  with  the 
hostess  he  fell  again  into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Adrian,  who  said 
all  the  most  indiscreet  things  she  could  think  of  and  gave 
him  a  fair  insight  into  her  domestic  relations.  He  did  noth- 
ing to  encourage  this  confidence  ;  but  it  apparently  amused 
her  to  satirize  her  husband's  family  a  trifle,  in  return  for 
their  disapproval  of  her;  and  he  had  no  means  of  checking 
her.  A  little  before  eleven  he  took  his  leave,  feeling  that, 
in  spite  of  the  bad  impression  he  had  made  upon  the  old 
people,  he  had  yet  allies  within  the  fortress,  and  it  was  only 
a  question  of  time  when  it  would  surrender. 


292  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AN    UNSENTIMENTAL    PROPOSAL. 

If  Mr.  Van  Schaak  had  not  been  a  little  bit  afraid  of  his 
daughter,  he  would  have  taken  her  severely  to  task  for 
inviting  Horace  to  dinner.  But  in  spite  of  his  frequent 
resolutions  to  haul  her  over  the  coals,  he  never  brought  it 
further  than  to  a  mild  remonstrance.  He  fumed  in  the 
privacy  of  his  own  bosom,  but  in  the  presence  of  her  dark, 
placid  eyes,  which  read  him  like  a  book,  with  all  his  foibles 
and  imperfections,  he  felt  so  at  a  disadvantage  that  both 
his  courage  and  his  wrath  evaporated. 

Father  and  daughter  were  seated  together  in  the  library 
the  morning  after  the  memorable  dinner.  The  room  was 
surrounded  with  low  book-cases  of  carved  ebony,  in  which 
were  poetry,  histories,  and  novels  in  superb  editions  de  luxe, 
which,  if  the  authors  could  have  seen  them,  would  have 
compensated  them  for  many  privations.  The  walls  were 
hung  with  stamped  leather  in  which  large  conventionalized 
leaves  and  flowers  in  bronze  and  dark  blue  tones  predom- 
inated. 

"Don't  you  think,  Kate,"  said  Mr.  Van  Schaak,  looking 
up  over  the  edge  of  his  newspaper,  "that  we  made  a  mis- 
take in  dining  that  Mr.  Harkness  from  Torryville  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Larkin  ?"  asked  Kate,  quietly. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Larkin.  That  wild  man  from  the  West,  who 
was  here  yesterday." 

"  He  is  not  from  the  West,  father  ;  nor  is  he  wild.  " 

"  Bless  me,  daughter ;  I  hope  you  are  not  taking  his 
part." 

"Yes,"  said  Kate,  "I  am." 

"  And  don't  you  think  he  appeared — what  shall  I  say — 
rather  ill  bred  ?  " 

"  No.  He  is  not  ill  bred ;  nor  is  he  exactly  well  bred. 
He  is  unbred." 

"  Well,  call  him  anything  you  like  ;  but  he  is  not  what 
I  call  a  gentleman." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

"Perhaps  not;  but  he  is  something  still  better  ;  he  is  a 
man." 

"  Good  gracious,  Kate  ;  I  really  believe  you — you  like 
him." 

Mr.  Van  Schaak  let  his  newspaper  fall  upon  his  knees 
and  stared  at  his  daughter's  serene  countenance  with  a 
shocked  expression. 

"Yes,"  said  the  unperturbed  Kate,  "I  like  him  very 
much." 

Mrs.  Van  Schaak  entered  at  this  moment  with  her  nose 
in  the  air,  a  slight  morning  discontent  on  her  face. 

"  Mrs.  Van  Schaak,"  cried  her  lord  in  helpless  despair, 
"  do  you  hear  what  your  daughter  is  saying  ?  She  says 
she  wants  to  marry  that  wild  Westerner  who  dined  here 
yesterday."  He  always  transferred  to  his  wife  the  respon- 
sibility for  Kate's  existence,  when  he  got  vexed  with  her. 

"  I  did  not  say  that,"  remarked  Kate,  contemplating  the 
toe  of  her  dainty  slipper;  "moreover,  he  has  not  asked 
me." 

"There,  didn't  I  say  it,"  exclaimed  her  parent,  appeal- 
ing again  to  his  better  half  ;  "  did  you  hear  that,  Mrs.  Van 
Schaak  ?  She  says  she  is  only  waiting  for  him  to  ask  her." 

"What  is  the  good  of  exciting  yourself  about  such 
absurd  things,  Adrian  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Van  Schaak,  fretfully ; 
"  now  you'll  have  one  of  your  bad  headaches  again ;  and 
then  we  shall  all  be  made  uncomfortable." 

The  consideration  implied  in  this  remark  had  a  sooth- 
ing effect  upon  Mr.  Van  Schaak.  He  got  up,  touched  his 
hair  and  mustache,  cast  a  glance  into  the  mirror,  and  com- 
posed his  ruffled  feathers  as  a  cock  does  after  a  fight.  He 
picked  up  the  newspapers  and  sought  solitude  in  his  private 
apartments.  Presently  he  was  heard  to  order  his  saddle- 
horse,  and  in  half  an  hour  descended  in  the  appropriate 
attire  for  equestrian  exercise. 

This  was  but  the  first  of  a  series  of  skirmishes  between 
Kate  and  her  father.  Mr.  Van  Schaak  was  much  inclined 
to  forbid  Horace  the  house ;  but  was  restrained  from 
resorting  to  extreme  measures  by  his  confidence  in  his 
wife,  whose  superior  diplomacy  would,  no  doubt,  prove 
equal  to  the  occasion.  In  the  meanwhile  the  obnoxious 
visitor  came  and  went  at  his  pleasure,  and  Kate  received 
him,  and  took  no  steps  to  discourage  his  attentions.  He 
returned  to  Albany,  whenever  his  duties  demanded,  but 
made  a  point  of  spending  every  Saturday  and  Sunday  in 
the  city,  in  Miss  Van  Schaak's  company.  When,  finally,  in 


2Q4  THE  MAMMON* 

the  early  part  of  June,  he  made  his  proposal  in  due  form, 
Kate  was  in  no  way  surprised,  and  she  gave  him  her  an- 
swer in  a  perfectly  cool  and  rational  manner,  without  the 
least  emotional  flutter.  They  were  seated  together  in  the 
white  and  gold  drawing-room  and  had  been  discussing 
Horace's  political  prospects,  when  a  sudden  fire  lighted  up 
his  eyes  and  he  said  :  "  I  should  not  have  the  presumption 
to  ask  you  to  share  my  life,  Miss  Van  Schaak,  if  I  did  not 
believe  that  it  would  be  a  life  worth  sharing." 

She  liked  the  originality  of  that  form  of  proposal,  and 
;  she  liked  the  self-appreciation  it  betrayed.  The  total  ab- 
,'  sence  of  sentimental  allusion  also  appealed  to  her. 

"  Why  do  you  think  it  worth  sharing  ?"  she  asked,  in 
order  to  draw  him  out. 

"  If  you  have  not  the  penetration  to  discover  that,"  he 
answered  with  his  ringing  aggressive  tone,  "  I  shall  not 
undertake  to  tell  you." 

She  smiled  and  looked  at  him  with  unmistakable  ad- 
miration. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  discovered  it,"  she  said. 

"And  do  you  agree  with  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

He  got  up,  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  seized  her  hand. 
He  would  have  liked  to  fold  her  in  his  arms,  but  there  was 
something  in  her  air  and  bearing  which  clearly  forbade  it. 
A  slight  chill  stole  over  him  ;  for  although  she  had  uttered 
no  word,  and  made  no  gesture  to  indicate  it,  he  felt  that 
'  caresses  would  be  excluded  from  their  relation.  It  would 
i  seem  an  inconceivable  presumption,  on  his  part,  or  on 
i|  any  one's  part,  to  kiss  her.  He  was  not  physically  attrac- 
'  tive  to  her,  as  she  was  to  him.  For  all  that,  the  sense  of 
I  her  preciousness,  of  her  rare  and  exquisite  worth,  im- 
i  pressed  him  deeply.  Like  a  pure  and  fragrant  pond-lily, 
untouched  and  untouchable,  she  floated  on  the  placid  waters 
of  life,  and  what  she  lacked  in  warmth  of  color  she  more 
than  made  up  for  in  delicacy  of  texture  and  fineness  of 
form.  He  must  take  her  at  her  own  terms  or  lose  her. 
There  would  be  no  hearts  broken  in  either  case  ;  unless, 
indeed,  he  were  to  develop  a  heart  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  having  it  broken.  But  disappointment  there 
would  be,  and  resentment  and  baffled  aspiration.  The 
man,  however,  who  holds  the  woman  of  his  choice  by  such 
frail  bonds,  let  him  avoid  risks,  and  let  him  postpone  all  ex- 
periments until  after  the  wedding. 

Horace  was    not  exactly  happy  as  he  descended  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  295 

stairs  of  the  Van  Schaak  mansion,  after  having  obtained 
Kate's  promise  to  marry  him.  At  least  he  was  not  as 
happy  as  he  had  expected  to  be.  There  was  something 
lacking — glaringly  lacking ;  though  he  was  not  sure 
what  it  was.  He  was  certainly  no  sentimentalist  who  was 
disturbed  because  a  kiss  had  been  denied  him,  and  because 
there  had  been  no  thrills,  no  gush,  or  tender  nonsense. 
And  yet  it  seemed  singularly  barren  and  incomplete,  this 
engagement  of  his  ;  a  little  too  much  like  a  commercial 
transaction.  The  mere  feeling  of  gratified  ambition  failed 
to  supply  the  keen  delights  which  he  had  anticipated.  A 
curious  insecurity  came  over  him  ;  and  though  he  would 
have  been  ashamed  to  admit  it,  he  could  not  suppress  a 
doubt  as  to  whether  he  had  acted  wisely.  Had  not  Kate 
appeared  so  supremely  desirable  to  him,  chiefly  because 
she  seemed  to  be  beyond  his  reach  ?  Had  not  her  lofty 
indifference  stung  his  energies  inter  activity,  and  chal- 
lenged his  ambition  ?  Had  he  not  made  up  his  mind  to 
marry  her,  chi&fly  because  the  general  presumption  was 
that  he  could  not  ?  He  sauntered  down  Irving  Place  medi- 
tating on  these  questions,  without  pretending  to  answer 
them.  The  thought  of  Bella  obtruded  itself  incessantly 
upon  his  mind,  and  a  vague  tenderness  for  her  meekness 
and  her  misfortune  awoke  within  him.  Was  it  remorse 
he  felt  or  merely  an  irrational  regret  at  the  necessity  of 
being  cruel  ?  That  was  another  idle  query,  which  haunted 
him  with  uncomfortable  persistence.  He  straightened 
himself  up,  and  began  to  look  about  him  ;  the  street  was 
deserted  on  the  sunny  side ;  but  on  the  shady  side  he  ob- 
served a  man  who  was  walking  along  rapidly,  carrying 
some  books  under  his  arm.  The  figure  struck  him  as  be- 
ing familiar,  and  a  second  glance  convinced  him  that  it 
was  Aleck.  But  what  a  change  had  come  over  him  !  His 
coat  was  devoid  of  style  and  his  trousers  were  baggy  at 
the  knees.  There  was  a  forward  bend,  as  of  haste  or  pre- 
occupation in  his  walk,  but  not  a  stoop.  It  was  the  walk 
of  a  man  who  has  an  end  in  view,  but  takes  no  pride  in  his 
appearance. 

Horace  turned  about  and,  crossing  the  street,  followed 
his  brother  at  a  distance.  The  sight  of  him  aroused  a 
host  of  memories.  How  much  lonelier  and  more  selfish 
his  life  had  been  since  he  lost  Aleck.  And  what  was 
their  quarrel  really  about  !  A  paltry  money  affair  ;  and  on 
his  own  part,  besides,  a  mean  calculation.  He  longed  so 
to  speak  to  Aleck  that  he  was  eager  to  minimize  the  cause 


296  THE  MAMMON 

of  their  disagreement.  He  hastened  his  steps,  though  as 
yet  undecided  whether  he  should  yield  to  his  impulse. 
They  had  now  reached  Madison  Square,  and  Aleck,  with- 
out looking  right  or  left,  plunged  into  the  glaring  sun- 
shine. 

Horace,  fearing  that  he  might  lose  him  in  the  crowd  of 
children,  nursery  maids,  and  loafers  that  encamp  under 
the  stately  trees  of  the  square,  broke  into  a  run  and  over- 
took him. 

"Aleck."  he  said,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

Aleck  started  back  and  stared  in  blank  bewilderment. 

"  Horace  !  "  he  cried,  as  the  perception  dawned  upon  him 
that  it  was  his  brother,  and  then  again,  with  a  joyous  out- 
burst]: 

"Why,  Horace,  is  it  you  ? " 

"  It's  yours  truly,  large  as  life  and  twice  as  natural," 
replied  Horace,  taking  refuge  in  his  usual  banter. 

"  And  what  are  you  doing  here  ? "  inquired  Aleck, 
beaming  upon  him  with  a  boyish,  undisguised  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  I  have  something  going  on  here  in  the  petticoat 
line,"  said  the  elder  brother  in  his  jovial  off-hand  way. 
But  he  had  scarcely  uttered  the  rude  phrase  before  he  was 
ashamed  of  it.  There  was  a  kind  of  implied  mendacity  in 
it.  It  misrepresented  his  relation  to  the  woman  for  whose 
favor  he  had  so  earnestly  sued. 

"Ah,  a  divorce  suit,"  said  Aleck  ;  "well,  I  have  heard 
that  your  practice  is  spreading  over  the  whole  State." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  not  bad,"  Horace  rejoined,  rather  relieved 
that  his  brother  misunderstood  him. 

They  walked  along  at  a  leisurely  pace  under  the  great 
trees,  talking  of  indifferent  things.  Horace, who  was  ach- 
ing to  confide  to  Aleck  his  engagement,  was  unable  to  find 
the  proper  tone  for  such  an  important  announcement ;  and 
Aleck  was  haunted  with  the  spectres  of  a  hundred  mo- 
mentous things  which  he  wished  to  say,  but  which  some- 
how, he  hesitated  to  utter.  It  was  odd,  but  these  two, 
who  were  so  fond  of  each  other,  and  had  longed  so  for  this 
chance  to  speak  freely,  talked,  under  a  constraint  which 
neither  understood,  the  most  artificial  stuff  to  each  other. 
Aleck  was  the  first  to  escape  from  this  bondage  of  plati- 
tude 

"  Horace,"  he  said,  stopping  in  front  of  his  brother  and 
taking  hold  of  his  arm,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  if  you'll  come 
home  with  me.  If  you  don't  want  to,  just  say  so,  and  I 
shall  not  be  offended.  But — but — I  should  regard  it  as  a 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  297 

great  kindness   to — to — my  wife,"   he   finished,   blushing 
with  happy  embarrassment. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  asked  Horace,  considering  rapidly 
the  various  aspects  of  the  problem.  Would  his  uncle  ap- 
prove of  his  according  any  sort  of  recognition  to  Gertrude, 
after  he  had  himself  disowned  her?  Was  it  worth  while 
imperilling  his  relation  to  his  uncle  for  the  sake  of  oblig- 
ing Aleck"?  But  there  was  also  another  side  to  the  ques- 
tion. He  was  now  a  sufficiently  important  man  to  afford 
to  consult  his  own  preference.  He  was  absolutely  indis- 
pensable to  the  Honorable  Obed,  who  would  be  too  shrewd 
to  pick  quarrels  with  him  on  a  slight  pretext.  He  was  about 
to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  millionaire,  and  his  prestige 
would  be  immensely  increased  by  the  wealth  and  social 
position  of  his  bride.  He  concluded  to  accept  Aleck's  in- 
vitation. The  risks  were  too  insignificant  to  be  considered. 

"I  live  way  out  of  creation,"  Aleck  was  saying,  while 
these  thoughts  flashed  through  his  brother's  head.  "  We 
shall  have  to  take  the  Sixth  Avenue  Elevated.  Come 
along ! " 

"  Hold  on  a  minute  !  Tell  me  first,  have  you  got  Ger- 
trude's mother  with  you?" 

"No,  we  have  done  with  her  long  ago." 

"Then  I'm  your  man.  I  should  like  to  see  Gertie  ;  and 
besides,  I  want  to  have  a  talk  and  a  confidential  smoke 
with  you,  as  in  old  times." 

They  started  across  the  square  and  down  Twenty-third 
street  toward  the  elevated  railroad,  Aleck  talking  joyously 
and  telling  little  matrimonial  experiences  which  were  cal- 
culated to  show  his  wife  in  the  most  charming  light. 

Horace  scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  touching  or  ludi- 
crous to  hear  him  thus  guilelessly  congratulate  himself  on 
having  drawn  the  grand  prize  in  the  lottery  of  life,  when 
as  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  been  a  pis  aller — a  last  refuge 
to  a  woman  who  by  her  own  folly  had  gotten  herself  into 
an  embarrassing  situation.  What  could  be  more  pitiful 
to  a  man  of  Aleck's  talents  and  prospects  than  to  teach 
school  six  hours  a  day  at  $1,200  a  year,  live  in  a  stuffy  little 
flat  and  grow  seedy  and  near-sighted  in  the  mere  paltry 
effort  to  keep  soul  and  body  together  ?  But  then,  chacun 
a  son  gotit !  To  Horace  such  an  existence  would  be  worse 
than  death. 

"You  don't  know,"  the  deluded  enthusiast  exclaimed, 
"  you  can  have  no  idea  how  lovely  she  is  to  me.  I  am 
aware  that  you  never  appreciated  her  as  I  did  ;  but  then 


298  THE  MAMMON 

it  was  your  excuse  that  you  never  really  knew  her.  In 
fact  I  never  did  either.  If  I  had,  I  should  have  murdered 
Hawk  for  daring  to  love  her.  Fortunately,  however,  that 
was  a  very  one-sided  affair.  She  allowed  herself  to  be 
fascinated  by  his  fine  talk  ;  I  can  easily  forgive  her  that, 
for  I  was  myself  under  the  spell  of  that  humbug  for  a  good 
while.  But  she  has  told  me  that  she  never  really  loved 
him.  And  that  has  made  me  so  happy.  For,  I  must  con- 
fess, I  was  foolish  enough  to  be  tormented  by  a  kind  of 
retrospective  jealousy,  whenever  I  thought  of  that  plausi- 
ble rascal.  Now,  I  have  none  of  that  ;  for  I  have  her  own 
word  for  it,  that  she  simply  deluded  herself  into  thinking 
that  she  cared  for  him.  You  must  not  imagine,  however," 
here  Aleck  broke  out  into  a  soft  laugh,  and  his  eye  shone 
with-  a  happy  illumination,  "you  must  not  suppose  that 
she  is  all  sweetness  and  light.  For  in  that  case  she  might 
evaporate  in  my  arms  into  sheer  luminous  perfection.  No, 
it  is  the  touch  of  earth  which,  after  all,  I  love  the  best  in 
her.  Her  sweet  little  feminine  ways,  her  pouts,  her  o£ca- 
sional  rebellions  against  my  authority,  her  irrational  be- 
havior, her  bewildering  feminine  logic.  You  know,  two 
weeks  ago,  she  was  taken  ill  in  the  most  unaccountable 
manner,  and  the  doctor  told  her  she  must  keep  on  her 
back,  and  not  exert  herself  for  about  a  week.  We  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  going  out  to  take  our  dinner  at  a 
restaurant,  and  you  can't  imagine  what  delightfully  jolly 
little  dinners  they  were  !  But  now,  of  course,  I  had  to 
bring  the  dinners  to  her.  The  first  day  or  two  she  ate 
them,  though  not  with  much  gusto  ;  but  on  the  third  day 
she  rebelled,  declared  that  everything  was  cold,  that  if  I 
couldn't  bring  her  a  hot  dinner,  she  wouldn't  have  any 
dinner  at  all.  She  wasn't  going  to  stand  this  nonsense 
any  longer  ;  the  doctor  was  an  old  nightcap  who  was  trying 
to  run  up  a  bill  by  keeping  her  on  her  back,  when  she 
was  perfectly  well,  etc.  She  was  going  to  get  up,  whether 
the  doctor  liked  it  or  not,  and  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  have  a  decent  hot  meal,  even  if  she  had  to  walk  a  mile 
for  it.  Of  course  I  remonstrated,  but  it  was  no  good.  I 
begged,  I  implored  her  to  consider  her  health.  But  she 
laughed  at  me,  and  told  me  I  was  a  ridiculous,  fussy,  busy- 
body. Up  she  started  and  down  four  flight  of  stairs ;  the 
elevator  was,  as  usual,  out  of  order.  Then  in  despair,  I 
ran  after  her,  taking  four  steps  at  a  time,  overtook  her  on 
the  fourth  landing,  flung  my  arms  about  her  and  carried 
her  bodily  back  to  her  bed-room.  She  made  no  resistance. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  299 

She  was  almost  too  astonished  to  speak.  Without  a  word 
she  lay  down  on  the  bed,  turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  and 
refused  to  stir  or  to  answer  any  of  my  questions.  I  offered 
to  send  to  the  Brunswick  for  a  dinner  ;  and  finally,  I  was 
reckless  enough  to  suggest  Delmonico.  I  might  just  as 
well  have  talked  to  the  wall.  She  was  and  remained  dumb. 
At  last  without  awaiting  her  consent  I  rang  for  a  messen- 
ger, and  procured  an  excellent  meal  from  a  restaurant 
close  by.  There  was  quail  on  toast,  filet  de  bceuf,  cream 
meringue  and  all  the  things  I  knew  she  liked.  But  do  you 
suppose  she  relented  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  During  the  entire 
afternoon  she  lay  like  one  dead  ;  and  I  sat  in  the  parlor, 
pretending  to  write,  but  really  watching  her  anxiously  in 
the  mirror.  Oh,  how  miserable  I  was!  I  really  thought 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  starve  herself  to  death.  I 
paced  the  floor  in  agony,  made  the  most  contrite  speeches 
to  her,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  I  had  about  given  up  the 
battle  and  was  mentally  composing  her  obituary : 

"  'LARKIN — May  i2th.  Gertrude,  beloved  wife  of  Alex- 
ander Larkin,  daughter  of  the  Honorable  Obed  Larkin,  of 
Torryville,  in  the  twenty-first  year  of  her  age.  Please  omit 
flowers.' 

"I  had  just  gotten  to  that  point,  I  say,  when,  to  my  unut- 
terable delight,  I  saw  her  rise  cautiously,  and  with  a  quick 
movement  tear  a  leg  off  the  quail  which  was  on  the  table 
by  her  bed.  I  stood  speechless,  watching  her  in  the  mirror. 
She  rose  again,  and  after  having  made  sure  that  she  was 
unobserved,  tore  off  another  leg.  The  third  time,  the  rest 
of  the  quail  went  the  same  way.  Then  the  cream  meringue 
vanished.  Suddenly,  when  my  anxiety  was  relieved,  the  ludi- 
crous aspect  of  the  thing  struck  me  and  I  began  to  chuckle, 
first  softly,  then  more  loudly,  until  I  burst  into  a  ringing 
laugh.  She  lost  her  appetite  instantly.  But  in  the  same 
moment  I  was  at  her  side.  She  smiled  in  a  shamefaced 
sort  of  way,  then  she  hugged  me  and  cried,  and  called  her- 
self silly  and  foolish  and  begged  my  pardon  ;  and  I  am 
afraid  I  cried  some  myself  too,  and  we  were  absurdly,  ir- 
rationally, extravagantly  happy." 

Having  got  started  on  this  theme  Aleck  took  no  note 
of  the  stations  they  passed  and  would  have  gone  on  to 
Washington  Heights  if  Horace  had  not  asked  him  at 
Seventy-second  Street,  if  it  was  not  time  to  get  off.  He 
had  begun  to  pity  Aleck  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  for 


300  THE  MAMMON 

asking  so  little  of  Fate,  for  consenting  to  be  happy  at  such 
a  very  cheap  price,  for  constructing  an  illusory  paradise  for 
himself  out  of  such  poor  material. 

They  sauntered  up  one  street  and  down  another  and  came 
at  last  to  an  enormous  ten-story  caravansery,  of  red  brick 
with  brown  stone  trimmings.  They  entered  a  somewhat 
squalid  vestibule,  with  tesselated  floor  and  exhibiting  a 
multitude  of  brass  bell  handles,  under  each  of  which  there 
was  a  rectangular  opening  containing  a  card.  That  was 
the  Patagonia. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  3<3I 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

"THE  PATAGONIA." 

Aleck  tried  to  be  gay  and  debonair  as  he  opened  the  door 
from  the  dark  hall  into  the  room  which  he  was  pleased  to 
call  his  study.  But  he  could  not  disguise  his  excitement 
from  his  astute  brother.  He  laughed  boisterously  at  things 
which  were  not  ludicrous,  knocked  the  furniture  about  in 
his  effort  to  find  a  comfortable  chair  for  his  guest,  and 
skipped  from  one  subject  of  conversation  to  another  with 
bewildering  vivacity. 

"  I  hope  you'll  excuse  the  looks  of  things,  Horace,"  he 
said  ;  "  for  you  know  we  are  not  yet  quite  settled.  We  don't 
like  to  buy  the  things  we  need  all  at  once  ;  things  that 
we  have  to  live  with  we  prefer  to  get  one  by  one.  And  I 
tell  you,  we  get  no  end  of  fun  out  of  our  furniture  expedi- 
tions. Gertie,  you  know,  has  about  as  much  idea  of  money 
as  the  man  in  the  moon.  I  have  had  an  awful  lot  of  trouble 
in  teaching  her  to  count  her  change  when  she  goes  shop- 
ping. '  Why,  you  certainly  don't  want  me  to  insult  the  clerk 
to  his  very  face,'  she  exclaimed,  the  first  time  I  spoke  to 
her  about  it,  and  she  swept  the  change  she  got  from  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  into  her  purse  with  a  royal  recklessness." 

It  was  perhaps  pardonable  in  Aleck  that  he  found  the 
peculiarities  of  his  wife  absorbingly  interesting,  and  im- 
agined that  they  could  not  fail  to  appear  equally  delightful 
to  his  brother.  But  Horace,  to  whom  the  poetry  of  a  man's 
relation  to  the  woman  he  loves  was  as  a  sealed  book,  could 
not  repress  the  reflection  that  Aleck  had  degenerated  sadly. 
He  was  making  a  complete  fool  of  himself  over  this  woman  ; 
and  as  he  had  now  chosen  to  go  his  own  way,  there  would 
be  no  use  in  trying  to  open  his  eyes.  The  room  in  which 
they  were  sitting  was  about  six  feet  by  eight,  and  con- 
tained two  tall  book-cases  made  of  stained  pine  boards,  a 
lounge  covered  with  green  rep,  a  cherry  writing  desk 
and  two  cane-seated  chairs.  Over  the  desk  hung  crayon 
portraits  of  Aleck  and  his  wife,  the  former  with  a  curious 
twist  to  his  mouth,  the  latter  with  an  eye  which  threatened 


3O2  THE  MAMMON 

to  drop  out.  The  cipher  of  the  artist,  G.  L.,  in  n  boldly 
ornamental  style,  was  visible  in  the  right  hand  corner. 
The  happy  possessor  of  these  works  of  art  could  not  conceal 
his  pride  in  them,  but  had  to  call  his  brother's  attention  to 
their  excellence.  He  then  excused  himself,  and  in  making 
his  way  to  the  door  stumbled  over  Horace's  long  legs,  which 
stretched  across  the  whole  unoccupied  area  of  the  floor. 
A  moment  later  there  were  unmistakable  sounds  of  a  sub- 
dued dispute  in  the  next  room,  and  the  inference  lay  ne;ir 
that  the  lady  of  the  house  was  not  anxious  to  renew  her 
acquaintance  with  her  brother-in-law.  The  brother-in- 
law  in  question  smiled,  and  on  the  whole  sympathized  with 
her  reluctance.  Aleck's  entreaties  seemed,  however,  in  the 
end  to  prevail  ;  for  he  returned  presently  in  a  radiant 
humor,  and  announced  to  Horace  that  his  wife  had  con- 
sented to  see  him.  If  it  had  been  the  Queen  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland  who  had  signified  her  willingness  to 
receive  him,  the  tone  of  the  announcement  could  not  have 
been  more  impressive.  He  flung  open  the  door  to  the 
parlor,  much  as  a  royal  lackey  does  who  shows  you  into 
the  presence  of  the  sovereign. 

Horace  made  his  bow  to  Gertrude,  who  met  him  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.  His  first  thought  was  that  she  was 
really  handsome  (a  fact  which  he  had  never  discovered  be- 
fore), and  her  first  sensation  was  one  of  relief  that  he  did 
not  kiss  her.  For  she  had  dreaded  that,  out  of  regard  for 
Aleck,  he  might  have  found  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  be 
affectionate. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Horace,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  And  I  to  see  you,  Gertie,"  he  answered  with  the  same 
degree  of  veracity.  "  You  have  grown  so  handsome  that  I 
should  scarcely  have  known  you." 

Aleck,  who  was  standing  by,  beaming  upon  his  wife  with 
a  half  paternal,  half  lover-like  pride,  here  burst  out  vigo- 
rously :  "  Now,  there  you  see  !  Isn't  it  the  very  thing  I 
have  been  saying  to  you,  that  you  are  growing  more  beau- 
tiful every  day  ?  And  you  have  insisted  that  I  was  flatter- 
ing or  making  fun  of  you." 

"  Now,  don't  be  such  a  jack,  Aleck  ! "  was  the  prompt  re- 
sponse ; "  or  Horace  will  think  you  have  lost  what  little  sense 
you  ever  had  since  getting  married.  And  then  he  will  hold 
me  responsible  for  your  absurdity." 

She  flushed  with  a  vague  embarrassment  and  seated  her- 
self on  a  chair  in  front  of  her  easel.  The  conversation 
moved  somewhat  cumbrously  from  one  indifferent  topic  to 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  303 

another,  and  Horace  had  time  to  take  an  inventory  of  the 
room.  It  was  an  unconventional  parlor,  to  say  the  least. 
It  contained  very  little  furniture,  and  that  of  odd  shapes 
and  sizes.  There  were  a  sofa  and  three  or  four  chairs,  not 
with  the  usual  shop  look,  but  handsome,  solid,  and  of  pleas- 
ing forms.  They  had  obviously  been  carefully  selected,  one 
by  one,  in  down-town  shops  where  handsome  things  have 
not  yet  reached  prohibitory  prices.  The  floor  was  covered 
with  a  rug  of  good  colors,  and  the  walls  with  a  multitude 
of  unframed  charcoal  drawings,  whose  chief  function  was 
to  conceal  the  glaring  blue  and  yellow  wall  paper.  A  large 
home-made  screen,  decorated  with  bulrushes  and  flying 
cranes,  also  in  charcoal,  hid  the  ugly  fireplace  and  mantel, 
and  striking  bits  of  drapery  were  effectively  arranged  about 
the  doors,  the  mirror,  and  wherever  there  was  anything  ob- 
jectionable to  put  out  of  sight. 

"  I  suppose,  Gertie,"  said  Horace,  in  order  to  make  talk, 
"that  here  in  New  York  you  have  a  fine  chance  to  prose- 
cute your  art  studies  ?  " 

It  is  hard  to  tell  why  the  suspicion  awoke  in  her  that 
he  was  making  sport  of  her.  She  could  not  presuppose 
any  benevolent  interest  in  herself  or  her  work  in  this  cold 
and  quizzical  brother-in-law,  who  had  always  disapproved 
of  her,  and  frequently  given  her  the  benefit  of  his  harsh 
criticism. 

"  The  best  thing  that  could  be  done  with  my  artistic 
aspirations  would  be  to  smother  them,"  she  answered, 
gravely  ;  "  if  you  could  help  me  to  do  that,  I  think  I 
should  be  grateful  to  you." 

"  How  can  you  speak  that  way,  Gertie,"  ejaculated 
Aleck,  with  ardor.  "  I  should  be  grieved  if  your  marriage 
were  to  interfere  with  the  development  of  your  artistic 
talent.  When  we  are  better  off  than  we  are  now,  I  intend 
to  have  you  take  lessons  of  the  best  artists  in  the  city,  and 
I  shall  be  astonished  if  they  don't  agree  with  me  in  my 
estimate  of  your  genius." 

"  Then  I  fear  you  are  destined  to  be  very  much  aston- 
ished, dear,"  she  answered,  sending  him  a  pleased  glance, 
full  of  shy  gratitude  and  tenderness. 

"  She  is  right,  Aleck,  she  is  right,"  interposed  the 
ungallant  Horace  ;  "  not  that  I  mean  to  pronounce  upon 
her  artistic  merits.  But  to  a  married  woman  a  talent 
of  that  sort,  if  it  is  genuine,  is  a  source  of  more  misery 
than  happiness.  I  am  not  speaking  of  a  mere  amateurish 
facility  in  drawing ;  for  that  might  prove  an  amusement 


3O4  THE  MAMMON 

and  a  pastime.  But  genius  will  not  put  up  with  a  divided 
allegiance.  It  demands  the  whole  man  or  the  whole 
woman,  and  it  avenges  itself,  if  you  try  to  put  it  off  with  a 
compromise." 

Aleck  stood  his  ground  bravely  against  the  united 
charge  of  his  brother  and  his  wife,  declaring  at  last 
sublimely  that  he  would  rather  sacrifice  his  own  life  to 
Gertrude,  than  have  her  sacrifice  her  life  to  him. 

"Aleck,  my  boy,  you  are  the  same  old  sixpence,"  cried 
Horace,  laughing  ;  "  but  permit  me  to  say,"  he  continued, 
more  solemnly,  "  that  nobody  has  a  right  to  sacrifice  him- 
self to  anybody  else.  If  he  does  he  simply  eliminates 
v  himself  from  the  struggle  for  existence,  proves  his  unfit- 
•  ness  to  survive.  It  is  natural  for  every  strong  man  to  try 
to  make  every  other  life  tributary  to  his  own  ;  but  the 
man  who  consents  to  make  his  life  tributary  to  somebody 
else's  is  from  Nature's  point  of  view  a  weak  man  ;  or  what 
amounts  to  the  same,  a  Quixotic  enthusiast  whom  she  will 
refuse  to  perpetuate,  because,  in  the  present  state  of  her 
affairs,  she  has  no  conspicuous  use  for  him.  She  may 
allow  him  to  exist  in  a  small  way  ;  but  what  is  existence 
without  predominance?" 

"  Oh,  Horace,  you  deluded  sage,"  Aleck  exclaimed, 
dramatically,  "  do  you  actually  mean  to  assert  that  Nature 
has  no  use  for  the  man  who  is  more  generous  than  the 
average  of  his  kind  ?" 

"  Nature    respects  nothing    but  strength,  physical  and 

intellectual,"    Horace    replied.      "  The    man    who    is    in 

advance  of  the  morality  of  his  age    is,  for  practical  pur- 

/    poses,  a  fool.     It  is  no  use  quarreling  with  Fate  ;  and  in 

|  the  United  States  the  average  man  is  the  Fate  that  rules 

us  and  determines  our  place  in  the  world." 

They  were  now  launched  on  one  of  their  old-time  dis- 
putes, and  for  a  full  hour  they  fought  hot  logical  battles, 
each  sticking  tenaciously  to  his  side  of  the  question.  Ger- 
trude, though  she  was  aglow  with  partisanship  for  her 
husband,  and  occasionally  was  tempted  to  speak,  was 
restrained  by  a  certain  awe  of  the  formidable  Horace. 
Though  his  attitude  toward  her  was  changed,  she  yet  felt 
the  after-effect  of  his  contemptuous  superciliousness,  so 
freely  expressed  in  the  past.  She  was  on  needles  and 
pins  whenever  Aleck  seemed  on  the  point  of  weakening,  and 
was  eager  to  come  to  his  rescue.  When  it  became  obvi- 
ous to  her  that  he  was  getting  worsted,  all  her  old  ani- 
mosity against  Horace  flared  up,  and  she  would  have 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  305 

liked  to  tell  him  how  odious  he  was.  Aleck,  however, 
took  his  defeat  in  good  part,  declaring  laughingly  that  it 
was  all  in  the  family,  and  that  he  did  not  pretend  to  be  a 
match  for  so  keen  a  logician  as  his  brother.  It  then 
occurred  to  him  that  he  had  forgotten  to  offer  Horace  a 
cigar,  and  he  made  haste  to  remedy  his  neglect.  Gertrude 
marvelled  at  his  goodnature,  and  was  stung  by  a  sneaking 
little  doubt,  whether  it  might  not  possibly  be  true  that 
such  amiability  did  argue  weakness  and  was  a  disqualifi- 
cation for  success.  And  she  hungered  for  success  with  all 
her  heart,  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  Horace  to  his 
knees  by  furnishing  a  practical  refutation  of  his  argument. 

"  I  suppose,"  observed  the  unconscious  object  of  her 
wrath,  with  an  insinuating  air,  "  that  Gertie  is  not  yet 
inured  to  smoke.  How  would  it  do  if  we  retired  to  the 
study,  where  we  shall  not  annoy  her  ?" 

She  was  clever  enough  to  understand  that  this  was  a 
ruse  to  get  rid  of  her,  and  she  therefore  made  no  objec- 
tion. Only  the  unsophisticated  Aleck  failed  to  discover 
any  such  intention  ;  because  he  could  not  imagine  how 
a  man  could  be  constituted  who  would  by  preference 
dispense  with  Gertrude's  society.  He  accepted,  however, 
his  brother's  suggestion  ;  but  came  near  embracing  his 
wife  when,  with  a  heroic  disregard  of  her  own  wishes,  she 
invited  Horace  to  stay  to  dinner.  A  practised  eye  might, 
however,  have  detected  a  shade  of  relief  in  her  wide-open 
blue  eyes  when  the  invitation  was  declined. 

Horace  expanded  with  a  sense  of  ease  and  unrestraint 
when  he  found  himself  alone  in  his  brother's  company. 

"  Aleck,"  he  said,  taking  some  slow  critical  whiffs  of  his 
cigar  to  test  its  quality,  "I  have  got  something  to  tell  you, 
and  I  shall  dispense  with  all  preliminaries.  My  dear  boy,  I 
am  going  to  be  married." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that,"  Aleck  burst  out  with  en- 
thusiasm ;  "  she  has  been  so  mortally  ill,  and  I  knew  you 
couldn't  afford  to  have  the  wrecking  of  that  poor  girl's 
life  on  your  conscience — 

He  became  aware  suddenly  that  his  brother's  face  had 
undergone  an  ominous  change.  There  was  a  hard  black 
look  about  his  eyes  which  he  knew  too  well  from  of  old. 
He  stared  at  him  with  a  gaze  of  terrified  questioning. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  cried 
Horace,  rising  and  staring  out  of  the  window. 

"  Why — whom — if  I  may  ask — are  you  going  to  marry  ?  " 
stammered  Aleck,  in  painful  confusion. 
20 


306  THE  MAMMON 

It  was  a  good  while  before  Horace  recovered  his  equa- 
nimity. "  Because  you  choose  to  throw  away  your  life," 
he  said,  harshly,  sending  Aleck  a  fierce  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  "  is  that  any  reason  why  I  should  go  and  throw 
away  mine  ?" 

"  No,"  Aleck  was  on  the  point  of  answering  ;  "you  pre- 
fer to  throw  away  the  lives  of  others.  A  man  has  a  right 
to  experiment  with  his  own  life,  but  he  has  no  right  to 
experiment  with  the  lives  of  his  fellow-men." 

He  knew,  however,  that  if  he  gave  utterance  to  this 
thought,  there  would  be  an  end  to  his  pleasant  relations 
with  his  brother.  And  he  valued  him  too  much  to  sacri- 
fice him  to  an  epigram.  The  suspicion  rankled  in  him 
that  it  was  his  marriage  which  appeared  to  Horace  as  an 
evidence  of  failure  and  a  consignment  of  his  life  to  hope- 
less mediocrity  ;  but  even  that  he  chose  to  forgive,  if  for- 
giveness for  his  own  blunder  was  yet  obtainable. 

"  You  know,  Horace,"  he  began  in  a  tone  of  conciliation, 
"that  I  am  a  thoughtless  fellow,  and  that  my  feelings 
often  run  away  with  me.  If  I  have  offended  you  I  am 
heartily  sorry  for  it." 

"  It  is  d d  easy  to  feel  sorry  ;  but  you  are  the  most 

left-handed  chap  I  ever  did  know." 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  am,  but  I  am  too  old  to  mend  my  ways, 
so  I  fear  you'll  have  to  put  up  with  them." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Anyway  it  takes  time  for  me 
to  get  into  a  forgiving  mood.  You  have  spoiled  my  desire 
to  be  confidential.  Good-by." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  without  telling  me  who  the  lady 
is  whom  you  are  going  to  marry  ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  some  other  time,  I  can't  to-day." 

He  had  seized  his  hat  and  cane,  and  Aleck  mournfully 
opened  the  door  for  him  and  rang  for  the  elevator.  They 
shook  hands  at  parting,  the  one  listlessly,  the  other  warmly, 
repentantly. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  righteous  has  had  to 
apologize  for  his  righteousness,  and  that  the  unrighteous 
has  exacted  an  apology  for  a  criticism  upon  his  unrighte- 
ousness. 

The  next  day  Aleck  received  a  letter,  written  at  the 
Union  League  Club,  informing  him  that  the  lady  who  was 
destined  to  become  his  sister-in-law,  was  Kate  Van  Schaak! 
If  the  roof  of  the  heavens  had  tumbled  down  about  his 
ears  he  could  not  have  been  more  astonished. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  307 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

PRELIMINARY  ARRANGEMENTS. 

Kate  Van  Schaak  conducted  her  campaign  on  the  Fabian 
plan.  She  refused  to  deliver  engagements,  but  she  ad- 
hered calmly  and  resolutely  to  her  purpose,  announced  it 
now  and  then  with  neat  and  distinct  emphasis,  and  al- 
lowed daily  gusts  of  ill-temper  to  sweep  over  her  with 
admirable  equanimity.  She  listened  to  the  severest  re- 
proaches without  growing  angry  ;  she  made  judicious 
admissions  when,  as  sometimes  happened,  the  criticisms 
on  her /0;z<:/ came  within  the  line  of  truth  ;  and  gradually 
accustomed  her  parents  to  the  inevitable  by  permitting 
them  to  exhaust  their  patience  in  futile  resistance. 

The  four  summer  months  were  spent,  as  usual,  at  New- 
port, where  the  Van  Schaaks  had  a  charming  villa.  Horace, 
who  had  looked  forward  with  much  pleasure  to  spending 
part  of  his  vacation  in  the  old  town  by  the  sea,  had  his 
ardor  considerably  cooled  when  Kate  requested  him  not 
to  approach  her  until  her  return  to  the  city  in  the  autumn. 
If  it  had  been  anybody  but  Kate  who  had  made  such  a  prop- 
osition to  him  he  would  have  suspected  intrigues  and 
flirtations,  in  which  he  was  not  to  interfere,  but  Kate,  with 
her  clear  brown  eyes  and  placid  brow,  was  so  far  above 
these  things  that  they  seemed  unworthy  of  consideration. 
Another  suspicion,  however,  suggested  itself,  and  was  not 
so  easily  dismissed — was  she,  perhaps,  a  little  ashamed  of 
him,  and  preferred  not  to  have  him  near  her  until  she  had 
won  the  right  to  amend  his  appearance  in  accordance 
with  her  own  taste  ?  If  such  was  the  case,  Horace  had  a 
good  mind  to  descend  upon  her  unannounced  in  order  to 
test  the  quality  of  her  regard  for  him.  But  in  contemplat- 
ing this  plan  he  gradually  acquired  a  realizing  sense  of  her 
formidableness.  She  was  not  a  person  to  be  trifled  with  ; 
and  it  would  be  extremely  unsafe  to  subject  her  to  un- 
pleasant surprises. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Horace  spent  the  greater  part 
of  the  summer  drearily  at  Torryville.  He  communicated 


308  THE  MAMMOtf 

his  intention  to  marry  Miss  Van  Schaak  to  his  uncle,  and 
was  a  trifle  disappointed  at  the  manner  in  which  the  old 
man  received  the  announcement. 

"Well,  you've  had  your  own  way  pretty  much  in  every- 
thing," he  said,  pursing  up  his  lips  thoughtfully  ;  "  but 
mark  my  word,  she  ain't  the  kind  of  girl  that  it'll  be  easy 
to  pull  tergether  with." 

"I  don't  see  what  you  mean,  uncle,"  exclaimed  his 
nephew. 

"  I  didn't  reckon  you  would,"  said  Mr.  Larkin,  with  his 
shrewd  smile,  "but  you  will,  by  and  by." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  now." 

"  Well,  she  ain't  broken  in,  neither  for  saddle  nor  har- 
ness," observed  the  old  man,  persevering  in  his  equine 
simile. 

"  But  you  don't  want  to  break  girls,  uncle,  as  you  would 
a  horse." 

"Don't  you,  though  ?  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say,  is  this  ; 
if  you  don't,  you'll  be  sorry  for  it  by  and  by.  You'll  want 
to  try  it  when  it  is  too  late.  And  then  the  jig  is  up.  Good 
by,  John !  It  ain't  nice  to  be  your  own  counsel  in  a 
divorce  suit." 

"But,  uncle,  fooling  aside,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me 
what  you  have  got  against  Kate  Van  Schaak." 

"  Bless  you,  I  haven't  got  anything  against  her.  She  only 
looks  to  me  rather  hifalutin.  And  I  ain't  no  judge  of 
women  if  she  ain't  sorter  hard-bitted,  hard  in  the  mouth  ; 
good  on  the  trot  when  you  get  her  started,  but  mighty  hard 
to  start." 

Although  he  was  far  from  being  a  sentimentalist,  Hor- 
ace did  not  relish  hearing  such  disrespectful  terms  applied 
to  the  woman  upon  whom  he  was  about  to  confer  his  name. 
If  it  had  been  anyone  but  his  uncle  who  had  spoken  thus, 
he  would  have  given  vent  to  his  resentment  in  unmistak- 
able language.  But  that  is  the  disadvantage  of  being  a 
beneficiary,  you  cannot  enjoy  the  luxury  of  unrestrained 
sincerity. 

Among  all  the  trials  of  the  long  and  hot  summer,  which 
Horace  had  in  part  anticipated,  there  was  one  which  was 
happily  absent.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Robbins  had,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  recent  severe  illness  of  his  daughter,  taken 
a  vacation,  and  had  migrated  with  his  entire  tribe  into  the 
Adirondack  wilderness.  It  was  said  that  Bella's  lungs 
were  affected,  and  that  she  had  already  had  several  hem- 
orrhages. Others  declared  that  she  was  suffering  from 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  309 

nervous  prostration  and  hysteria.  But  whatever  it  was, 
Horace  was  relieved  of  the  unpleasant  necessity  of  meet- 
ing Mr.  Robbins  and  his  Rodents  in  the  post-office  and  in 
the  street,  as  he  otherwise  inevitably  would  have  done  ; 
and  for  this  he  was  duly  grateful. 

He  had,  moreover,  a  source  of  consolation  which,  to 
gentlemen  in  his  position  is  sanative  of  many  ills  to  which 
lovers  are  heirs.  He  received  weekly  letters  from  Kate, 
which  arrived  with  a  beautiful  regularity  and  precision. 
They  were  not  in  the  least  effusive  ;  but  they  were  neatly 
and  well  written,  containing  sage  but  conservative  com- 
ments upon  the  society  about  her,  accounts  of  balls, 
sailing  parties,  and  routs,  and  occasional  allusions  to  their 
approaching  wedding.  Barring  the  latter,  there  was  noth- 
ing, either  in  the  matter  or  manner  of  them,  which  was  not 
fit  for  publication.  What  Horace  missed  in  them  (and 
sometimes  missed  acutely),  was  the  personal  note,  the  note 
of  confidence,  trust,  and  devotion.  He  did  not  know  from 
experience  what  was  the  proper  tone  of  a  so-called  love- 
letter  ;  but  he  had  been  led  to  suppose  that  it  was  some- 
thing quite  different  from  the  tone  of  mere  sensible  and 
friendly  companionship  which  characterized  the  epistles 
of  which  he  was  the  recipient.  It  appeared  to  him,  though 
his  demands  as  regards  sentiment  were  extremely  moder- 
ate, that  they  had  both  gotten  a  false  start  ;  for  the  essays 
on  contemporary  history  which  Kate  forwarded  to  him 
every  Saturday,  somehow  forced  hi  into  respond  with  phil- 
osophical disquisitions  and  treatises  on  sociology.  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  some  of  these  were  quite  brilliant,  and 
well  worthy  of  a  place  in  one  of  the  leading  magazines. 
He  was  aware  that  he  held  his  place  in  her  esteem  by  dint 
of  his  intellect,  and  did  not  neglect,  therefore,  to  display 
the  strength  of  this  intellect,  whenever  the  occasion  pre- 
sented itself.  He  could  not  pretend  that  he  liked  this 
necessity,  or  that  it  satisfied  his  idea  of  the  fitness  of 
things,  but  he  saw  no  way  of  remedying  it,  and  therefore 
acquiesced. 

Politics  had  been  in  a  state  of  stagnation  during  the 
early  part  of  the  summer.  But  about  the  middle  of 
August  the  Hon.  Reuben  Studebaker,  who  had  represented 
the  county  in  the  State  Senate  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
died  of  Bright's  disease,  leaving  his  senatorial  shoes  the  ob- 
ject of  a  spirited  competition.  The  Hon.  Reuben  had  not 
been  a  resident  of  Torryville,  but  it  was  claimed  by  Mr. 
Dallas  and  his  colleagues  that  by  a  kind  of  traditional  rule 


3lO  THE 

of  rotation,  the  succession  belonged  by  right  to  his  town- 
ship, of  which  Torryville  was  the  centre  and  chief  ornament. 
Mr.  Studebaker,  it  was  freely  asserted,  had  not  been  a  model 
law-maker,  having  been  concerned  in  every  corrupt  job 
which  had  passed  the  legislature  since  he  first  made  his 
entrance  into  politics.  But  he  had  managed  to  keep  him- 
self in  favor  with  his  constituents  by  procuring  for  their 
locality  a  branch  of  the  insane  asylum,  canal  improve- 
ments, and  other  legislature  favors,  and  for  conspicuous 
citizens  of  his  town  profitable  jobs  of  all  sorts  at  the  public 
expense.  He  had  posed  as  the  champion  of  rural  simplic- 
ity and  virtue  against  the  extravagance  and  vice  of  New 
York  City,  and  he  secured  additional  prestige  by  taking 
the  lead  in  every  raid  upon  the  treasury  of  the  wicked 
metropolis.  It  was,  of  course,  difficult  to  find  a  man 
worthy  and  competent  to  succeed  so  useful  a  representa- 
tive, and  the  press  and  public  opinion  wavered  long  before 
arriving  at  a  conclusion.  Then  with  a  marvellous  unan- 
imity the  Republican  papers  made  the  discovery  that  the 
Hon.  Horace  Larkin  was  the  man  designated  by  talent, 
character,  and  conspicuous  public  service  to  fill  the  place 
of  the  late  lamented  senator.  The  Democratic  journals 
vainly  charged  bribery  and  corruption,  and  called  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  the  Hon.  Obed  had  "  pulls  "  on  the 
Republican  editors,  and  owned  stock  in  their  papers. 
However  that  may  have  been  Horace  loomed  up  as  the 
man  of  destiny,  was  nominated  by  the  convention,  and  in 
due  time  elected. 

But  before  this  auspicious  event  was  consummated 
another  enterprise,  hardly  less  important,  demanded  the 
attention  of  the  candidate.  It  had  been  his  plan  originally 
to  hire  a  house  on  the  hill  belonging  to  his  uncle  and  fit  it 
out  properly  for  the  reception  of  his  bride.  But  when  he 
remembered  the  unattainable  splendor  of  her  present  sur- 
roundings, his  courage  began  to  fail  him.  He  could  not 
afford  to  appear  mean  before  her.  Cherry  or  black  wal- 
nut cabinet  finish,  Morris  wall  papers,  and  Axminster  car- 
pets, which  had  hitherto  represented  to  his  mind  the  acme 
of  magnificence,  had,  since  his  dinner  in  Gramercy  Park, 
grown  insupportably  commonplace  ;  it  expressed  a  futile 
aspiration  to  rise  above  respectable  shabbiness.  If  he  had 
caught  the  bird  Phenix,  he  was  in  honor  bound  to  furnish 
a  fitting  cage.  After  having  duly  pondered  the  ways  and 
means,  he  broached  the  matter  to  his  uncle,  and  asked  his 
advice.  They  had  a  long  and  earnest  discussion,  which  only 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  311 

the  profound  respect  they  entertained  for  each  other  pre- 
vented from  being  a  stormy  one.  Old  Mr.  Larkin  disap- 
proved strongly  of  Horace's  intention  to  build  a  fine 
house,  on  a  lot  he  owned  half  way  up  the  hill ;  but  ended 
with  offering  him  a  loan  of  $25,000.  And  so  an  architect 
was  instantly  engaged,  plans  were  submitted,  and  before 
the  end  of  July  the  ground  was  broken  and  the  foundation 
laid.  Half  a  dozen  designs,  all  of  an  ambitious  style,  were 
submitted  to  Kate,  and  she  promptly  indicated  her  prefer- 
ence. But  the  cool  way  in  which  she  referred  to  this  en- 
terprise, which  to  him  was  an  affair  of  the  most  vital  impor- 
tance, disappointed  and  offended  him.  Had  he  not  for  her 
sake  withdrawn  his  capital  from  good  investments,  and  put 
three-fourths  of  it  into  a  house  which  was  planned  to  suit 
her  taste,  not  his  ?  Had  he  not  incurred  the  risk  of  los- 
ing his  uncle's  good  will  by  proposing  a  scale  of  living 
which  to  the  frugal  millionaire  seemed  simply  preposter- 
ous ?  And  to  these  sacrifices  she  responded  with  the  so- 
ber suggestion  that  she  required  very  deep  closets  in  her 
private  rooms  and  a  marble  bath  so  arranged  that  she 
could  step  down  into  it,  and  should  not  have  to  climb  into 
it.  There  were  a  multitude  of  other  specifications  as  to 
light,  ventilation,  and  plumbing,  but  not  one  word  of  grat- 
itude or  affection.  She  was  honest,  at  least,  Horace 
thought  bitterly;  and  she  was  charmingly  consistent.  He 
had  exalted  the  prose  of  life  and  scouted  its  poetry  ;  and 
life  had  taken  him  at  his  word.  For  this  was  prose  with  a 
vengeance. 


312  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

WHICH     IS     THE     TRIBUTARY  ? 

The  wedding  of  the  Hon.  Horace  Larkin  to  Miss  Kate 
Van  Schaak  was  celebrated  with  due  pomp  and  magnifi- 
cence at  the  beginning  of  the  winter.  All  fashionable 
New  York  was  there  ;  and  some  beside  who  rarely  venture 
forth  into  the  glare  of  the  modern  day.  Decrepit  old 
Knickerbockers,  who  seem  but  an  expiring  tradition  in 
the  city  which  they  founded,  came  forth  from  their  ancient 
haunts  in  Stuyvesant  Square  and  hobbled  up  the  stately 
breadth  of  Second  Avenue,  from  below  Fourteenth  Street. 
Some  wore  frilled  shirt-fronts  and  embroidered  wrist-bands, 
and  they  shook  their  heads,  either  from  decrepitude  or 
disapproval ;  for  this  wedding  was  to  them  another  evi- 
dence that  the  world  was  sadly  out  of  gear.  The  Hon. 
Obed  Larkin  and  Mrs.  Larkin  were  also  present,  the  for- 
mer sober  and  quiet,  the  latter  exhilarated  and  excited  ;  in 
fact,  the  old  gentleman  had  all  he  could  do  in  keeping  his 
wife  from  making  a  jack  of  herself.  He  wore  during  the 
entire  ceremony  a  dubious  air,  took  his  departure  (in  spite 
of  Mrs.  Larkin's  protests)  by  an  early  train,  and  remarked 
repeatedly  to  his  unresponsive  spouse  that  this  world  was 
a  mighty  queer  place.  He  could  not  understand  how  a 
level-headed  man  like  Horace  could  have  made  so  fatal  a 
mistake  as  this  marriage  appeared  to  him  to  be  ;  and  the 
more  he  thought  of  it,  the  less  he  understood  it.  The  ten 
or  twenty  millions  which  Mr.  Van  Schaak  was  reputed  to 
be  worth  did  not  furnish  an  adequate  explanation.  He  had 
refrained  from  making  Horace  rich,  chiefly  to  save  him 
from  the  perils  which  he  had  now  deliberately  incurred. 
He  was  so  deeply  and  bitterly  disappointed  that  he  scarcely 
cared  to  disguise  his  feelings.  All  those  upon  whom  he 
had  pinned  his  faith  seemed  bound  to  make  a  botch  of 
their  lives  in  spite  of  his  precepts. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horace  Larkin  took  the  train  for  Albany  a 
little  after  midnight.  Kate  did  not  quite  relish  this  flavor  of 


OF  UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  313 

state  politics  about  their  wedding  journey,  but  she  recog- 
nized the  necessity  and  submitted  to  it.  Dreading  hotel  life, 
they  had  taken  a  handsomely  furnished  house  for  the  win- 
ter, the  rent  of  which  exceeded  Horace's  senatorial  salary 
multiplied  by  two.  But  that,  too,  was  a  necessity  against 
which  it  was  futile  to  rebel.  It  was  a  charming  old-fash- 
ioned house,  with  a  kind  of  solid  Knickerbocker  dignity, 
and  a  warm  air  of  having  been  lived  and  died  in  by  succes- 
sive generations.  Horace  hoped  that  Kate,  who  had  an 
eye  for  character,  would  take  to  it  kindly,  and  attribute  to 
her  husband's  civilized  taste  what  was  really  a  lucky  acci- 
dent. He  would  have  been  quite  as  capable  of  being  en- 
trapped by  a  medley  of  garish  splendor,  fit  to  make  a 
sensitive  woman  tear  her  hair.  In  fact,  he  entered  his 
new  domicile  with  fear  and  trembling,  lest  it  should  de- 
velop in  the  eyes  of  his  wife  some  atrocious  feature  which 
he  had  failed  to  discover.  It  was  a  novel  sensation  for 
him  to  feel  this  nervous  deference  for  the  opinion  of  an- 
other, and  a  corresponding  doubt  as  to  his  own  compe- 
tency of  judgment.  And  one  little  incident  which  occurred 
immediately  after  their  arrival  was  not  calculated  to  allay 
his  apprehension.  He  had  stepped  forward  in  a  flutter 
(which  he  had  never  before  experienced)  to  assist  her  in 
removing  her  wraps.  She  was  wonderful  to  behold,  in  a 
gorgeous  velvet  cloak,  cut  to  her  figure,  and  richly  lined 
with  blue  fox.  As  she  lifted  her  veil,  and  revealed  her 
pure,  placid  face,  flushed  with  the  cold,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  thrill  and  a  dim  stirring  of  something  within  him 
which  must  have  been  tenderness.  For  she  was  his,  this 
ominously  beautiful  and  formidable  piece  of  womanhood, 
this  complex  and  superior  creature  for  whom  so  many  had 
sued  in  vain.  As  she  stood  there  before  him  with  her  in- 
telligent dark  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  and  that  vague  disdain 
which  was  habitual  with  her  in  the  curve  of  her  lips,  he 
became  conscious  of  the  tremendous  compliment  she  had 
paid  him  in  entrusting  her  precious  self  to  him.  He  could 
afford  to  overlook  minor  points  in  the  presence  of  this 
overwhelming  fact.  It  was  as  if  a  new  warm  fountain 
sprung  forth  in  his  breast,  and  began  to  flow  with  a  gentle 
murmur.  For  no  man  who  is  not  a  brute  can  contemplate 
that  touching  phenomenon,  which  was  dawning  upon 
Horace's  consciousness,  without  the  awaking  of  whatever 
chivalry  there  may  be  in  him.  And  full  of  this  sentiment 
he  was  stepping  forward  to  offer  his  services,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  as  valet  de  chambre.  She  had  herself  un- 


314  THE  MAMMON' 

hooked  the  intricately  wrought  silver  clasp  under  the  chin 
and  pulled  out  a  dagger-like  needle  which  she  seemed  to 
pass  through  her  cranium  without  the  least  inconvenience, 
and  he  had  cautiously  taken  hold  of  the  cloak  and  was 
making  an  effort  to  remove  it.  But  by  ill  luck,  one  of  his 
sleeve  buttons  caught  in  her  hair,  and  as,  unaware  of  this 
complication,  he  gave  his  pull,  she  turned  upon  him  a 
pair  of  eyes  full  of  calm  severity,  and  said  : 

"  Oh,  what  a  clumsy  baboon  you  are  !  " 

If  she  had  spoken  in  momentary  anger,  provoked  by  the 
pain,  he  would  have  readily  forgiven  her.  But  she  was 
not  angry  ;  it  was  rather  a  deliberate  rebuke,  and  its 
chilling  severity  stabbed  him  like  cold  steel.  He  felt 
hurt ;  so  hurt  that  he  thought  he  could  never  get  over  it. 
What  would  his  life  be  in  the  company  of  a  woman  who 
on  the  morning  after  her  wedding  could  address  him  thus  ? 
He  was  in  the  habit  of  looking  facts  in  the  face,  and  this 
one  seemed  too  alarming  to  be  lightly  dismissed.  The 
circumstance,  too,  that  she  took  everything  for  granted, 
without  the  least  recognition  of  the  forethought  he  had 
displayed  in  securing  her  comfort,  was  somewhat  disquiet- 
ing. There  were  servants  in  the  house  ;  and  for  aught  he 
could  learn,  she  supposed  houses  were  built  with  servants 
in  them.  He  had  telegraphed  ahead  for  a  hot  breakfast, 
but  soon  found  the  muffins  lead,  and  the  chops  uneatable. 
She  made  no  ado  whatever,  but  she  tasted  the  dishes  with 
a  critical  air,  and  put  them  quietly  aside.  As  he  sat  and 
looked  at  her  across  the  table  in  amazed  silence,  he  grew 
so  angry  that  he  had  to  clench  his  teeth  to  keep  from 
blurting  out  some  offensive  phrase.  He  was  fully  aware 
that  it  would  not  do  to  yield  to  any  rash  impulse,  for  the 
relations  he  established  with  his  wife  now  would  have  an 
important  bearing  upon  his  whole  life's  happiness.  Her 
palate,  he  reasoned,  had  been  educated  up  to  a  point  far  be- 
yond his  comprehension  ;  and  he  ought  scarcely  to  object 
to  that  high  development  of  the  senses  which  made  her  the 
rare  and  complex  being  that  she  was. 

"You  don't  seem  to  eat  anything,"  he  said  with  forced 
composure. 

"  I  am  not  very  hungry,"  she  answered,  picking  daintily 
at  a  piece  of  bass,  which  had  been  a  trifle  scorched  in 
the  broiling. 

"  I  fear  you  are  over-tired." 

She  made  no  reply  for  a  while,  but  looked  at  her  plate 
half  absently,  then  pushed  it  away. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  315 

"  How  long  do  you  think  you'll  have  to  stay  in  this 
dreadful  place?"  she  asked. 

"What  dreadful  place?" 

"Albany." 

"  Until  the  end  of  the  session." 

"  And  when  will  it  end  ?  " 

"Probably  about  the  middle  of  May  or  the  first  of 
June." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  stay  here  as  long  as  that." 

He  thought  it  prudent  not  to  challenge  her  by  a  spirit 
of  opposition,  and  therefore  avoided  taking  issue  with 
her. 

"  Why  do  you  object  to  the  town  ? "  he  inquired,  be- 
tween two  sips  of  coffee. 

"  It  is  so  unfinished,  so  unkempt.  It  has  such  a  horrid, 
ragged,  American  look." 

"  American  ?     Do  you  dislike  it  because  it  looks  Ameri- 


can 


"Yes,  you  know  what  I  mean.  That  hideous  glaring 
newness  and  bareness  and  barrenness — you  see  that  no- 
where but  in  our  country.  I  cannot  imagine  anything 
more  offensive  to  all  the  five  senses  combined  than  the 
main  street  of  an  aspiring  American  village." 

"  But  you  know  it  is  after  all  American  ;  and  on  that 
account,  it  seems  to  me,  we  have  got  to  improve  it  or  put 
up  with  it." 

"  No,  there  you  are  wrong.  And  let  me  just  tell  you 
here,  what  my  plan  is.  I  want  you  to  get  an  appointment 
as  minister  to  some  European  court.  It  is  only  with  that 
in  view  that  I  could  tolerate  this  odious  place  for  a  little 
while.  With  my  fortune  we  could  live  en  prince  in  Paris 
or  London  or  St.  Petersburg,  and  your  political  distinc- 
tion would  count  for  much  more  there  than  it  ever  will 
here.  Life  is  more  commodiously  and  agreeably  arranged 
for  people  of  fortune  there  than  it  is  here,  and  as  long  as 
we  have  but  one  life  to  live  I  have  no  intention,  from 
patriotic  motives,  to  make  it  less  enjoyable  than  it  ought 
to  be." 

A  curious  idea  began  to  dawn  upon  Horace's  mind  ;  but 
he  brushed  it  away  as  unworthy  of  consideration.  It  re- 
turned, however,  and  refused  to  be  dismissed.  This  neat 
and  perfectly  finished  plan,  complete  in  all  its  details,  was 
no  inspiration  of  the  moment.  It  was  a  long-cherished, 
well-matured  purpose,  the  realization  of  which  she  had  de- 
liberately set  about,  Was  it  not  possible,  nay  probable, 


3l6  THE  MAMMON 

that  she  had  married  him  simply  on  account  of  her  faith 
in  his  ability  to  carry  out  this  scheme  ?  He  did  not  delude 
himself  with  the  thought  that  she  loved  him.  But  that 
he,  with  his  determination  to  make  her  life  tributary  to 
his,  had  himself  been  appropriated  with  exactly  the  same 
purpose  on  her  part,  that  seemed  like  a  colossal  joke- 
one  of  those  jokes  that  seem  funny  to  all  except  the  one 
at  whose  expense  it  is  perpetrated.  He  remembered  dis- 
tinctly the  expression  of  her  face  at  Mr.  Robbins's  dinner, 
when  he  told  her  that  he  regarded  no  achievement  in  the 
line  of  his  ambition  as  being  beyond  his  power  ;  and  it 
would  not  surprise  him  if  he  were  to  discover  that  she 
concluded,  at  that  moment,  that  he  was  the  man  to  carry 
out  her  ambition. 

"  May  I  ask  you,"  he  said,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  her  with 
a  gravely  questioning  look,  "when  that  plan  first  occurred 
to  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  was  long  ago,"  she  answered,  carelessly.  "  When  I 
was  in  the  convent  in  Paris,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  Princess  de  Meran,  who  was  exactly  my  age.  We 
became  great  friends,  and  she  once  took  me  home  with  her 
to  her  father's  chateau  in  Picardy.  I  saw  with  my  own 
eyes  how  those  people  lived,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  it  was  a  beautiful  and  dignified  and  enjoyable  life. 
Being  an  American  I  could  not  have  that  life,  but  I  re- 
solved to  choose  the  next  thing  to  it  that  was  attainable  to 
one  of  my  nationality.  You  might  say  that  I  could  have 
chosen  to  marry  a  French  or  German  noble,  and  at  one 
time  I  thought  of  that.  But  their  ideas  of  women  and 
their  treatment  of  them  are  revolting  to  me,  and  I  con- 
cluded that  with  my  American  education,  I  should  buy 
position  too  dearly  at  such  a  price." 

11  And  then  you  concluded  to  marry  me,  because  among 
the  men  you  had  met,  I  seemed  most  likely  to  be  able  to 
carry  out  your  scheme  for  you  ?" 

"  I  married  you  because  I  had  respect  for  your  intellect." 

"Doesn't  that  amount  to  the  same  thing?" 

"Perhaps." 

"And  do  you  not  think  it  is  a  little  bit  imprudent  on 
your  part  to  show  me  your  hand  so  early  in  the  game  ?" 

"If  you  are  to  accomplish  a  thing,  you  have  got  to  know 
what  it  is,  and  keep  it  in  mind  from  the  beginning." 

Horace  smiled  sardonically.  He  began  to  doubt  whether 
he  was  really  awake.  There  sat  his  young  wife  opposite 
to  him,  and  told  him,  as  it  appeared  to  him,  with  the  most 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  3 1/ 

refreshing  insolence,  that  she  had  planned  his  life  for  him, 
and  that  all  he  had  now  got  to  do  was  to  bend  his  energies 
toward  the  accomplishment  of  her  plans.  Was  it  a  creature 
of  the  sex  usually  referred  to  as  the  gentler,  who  was  mak- 
ing him  this  astounding  proposition  ?  She  had  the  faculty 
of  clear  thought  and  definite  statement  in  an  enviable  de- 
gree. There  was  no  mistaking  her  purposes.  She  had 
ruled  her  father's  house,  including  the  father  himself;  she 
had  never  been  crossed  in  any  of  her  desires.  What,  then, 
could  be  more  natural  than  her  expectation  to  continue  in 
this  imperial  role  and  take  charge  of  her  husband's  des- 
tinies as  she  had  of  those  of  her  parents.  He  must,  of 
course,  in  some  way,  hint  to  her  that  he  meant  to  share 
with  her  the  reins  of  government ;  but  it  would  have  to 
be  done  gently,  for  he  was  resolved,  if  possible,  to  avoid  a 
collision. 

"  Has  it  occurred  to  you,"  he  inquired,  quietly,  "that  I 
may  have  something  to  say  about  all  this  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  lifting  her  dark  eyes  with  a  look 
of  grave  observation;  "but  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  not 
disagree  with  me." 

"  I  will  promise  not  to  disagree  with  you  to-day,"  was 
his  reply,  as  he  brusquely  rose  from  the  table.  "  I  intend, 
if  possible,  to  exclude  disagreements  from  our  honey- 
moon." 

He  noted  a  subdued  excitement  in  her  manner,  or  the 
nearest  approach  to  excitement,  which  he  had  ever  wit- 
nessed in  her.  Yet  she  rose  with  the  greatest  deliberation 
from  the  table,  as  if  to  rebuke  him  for  his  haste.  In  fact, 
in  the  suspicious  frame  of  mind  in  which  he  found  himself, 
everything  she  did  or  said  became  a  more  or  less  cloaked 
demonstration  of  antagonism.  He  could  not  reconcile 
himself  to  the  thought  that  he  was  responsible  to  her  for 
his  actions ;  yet  she  seemed  to  take  such  responsibility  for 
granted.  Diplomat!  The  idea  of  his  becoming  a  diplomat, 
and  dancing  attendance  upon  foreign  dignitaries — he  who 
loathed  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  courts,  and  despised 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  the  gilded  idleness  which  in 
the  effete  monarchies  was  a  title  to  respect  !  No,  thank 
God,  he  was  an  American  to  his  backbone,  and  meant  to 
assert  himself  here  at  home  and  rise  as  high  here  as  his 
opportunities  and  his  ability  warranted.  Was  it,  after  all, 
wise  to  have  introduced  into  his  life  a  new  and  wholly  incal- 
culable force,  which  might  set  itself  to  work  to  frustrate  his 
ambition  instead  of  furthering  it  ?  He  had  never  before 


3l8  THE  MAMMON 

contemplated  this  possibility,  because  it  seemed,  only  yes- 
terday, so  absurdly  remote.  But  to-day  it  was  a  tangible 
something  which  had  to  be  reckoned  with. 

"Mrs.  Larkin,"  he  said  as  his  wife  approached  the  door 
(it  was  the  first  time  he  called  her  by  that  name,  and  it 
seemed  extremely  odd),  "if  there  is  anything  I  can  do  for 
you,  I  hope  you'll  let  me  know." 

"  If  you'll  kindly  telegraph  to  father  for  my  horses  and 
carriage  and  Lamkin,  my  coachman,  I  shall  be  obliged," 
she  answered  with  a  slight  salutation,  and  left  the  room. 

Horses  and  coachman  and  carriage — all  this  fuss  and 
expense  of  moving  back  and  forth,  for  only  three  or 
four  months  !  Well,  he  had  not  acquired  the  feeling  of  a 
millionaire  yet,  nor  the  needs  of  a  complex  existence  ;  and 
he  was  probably  a  poor  judge.  He  disliked  making  a 
grand  splurge  with  his  wife's  money,  immediately  ;  pre- 
ferring a  slower  and  more  judicious  expansion.  But 
there  was  her  mandate,  clear  and  peremptory,  as  usual. 
He  seized  his  hat  with  a  muttered  oath  and  walked  down 
the  street  to  the  telegraph  office. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  319 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A    MATRIMONIAL    PROBLEM. 

It  is  odd  how  a  good  judge  of  men  may  utterly 
misjudge  women.  Horace  had  thought  of  marriage  as  an 
amicable  partnership,  to  which  he  contributed  the  brains 
and  his  wife  the  money.  That  he  was  to  be  head  of  the 
firm  followed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  that  his  junior- 
partner,  recognizing  his  superiority,  would  unmurmuringly 
acquiesce  in  his  decisions,  it  had  never  occurred  to  him 
to  question.  At  the  end  of  the  first  month  of  his  married 
life,  he  was,  however,  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man.  His 
calm  and  well-bred  Kate,  who  could  be  so  very  charming 
when  she  wanted  to,  developed  also  the  correlative  faculty 
of  not  being  charming  when  it  suited  her  pleasure.  She 
displayed  no  preference  for  the  latter  kind  of  behavior, 
but  always  threw  upon  him  the  onus  of  disturbing  their 
pleasant  relations.  She  demanded  his  time,  she  demanded 
his  thought  and  his  services  in  a  hundred  ways  ;  but  she 
made  her  demands  politely,  though  with  that  clear  and 
well-chiselled  neatness  which  irritated  him,  in  spite  of  his 
better  judgment.  He  asked  himself  the  question  twenty 
times  a  day,  whether  he  had  sunk  to  the  position  of  being 
his  wife's  business  manager.  She  owned  in  her  own  right 
a  dozen  houses  in  New  York,  both  in  aristocratic  and  in 
plebeian  localities,  and  as  the  leases  expired,  a  correspond- 
ence with  the  agents  and  frequent  journeys  to  the  city 
became  necessary,  to  attend  to  the  management  of  the 
property.  Besides  this,  Kate  had  railroad  and  govern- 
ment bonds,  coupons  constantly  falling  due,  money  to  be 
invested,  and  investments  requiring  to  be  closely  watched. 
The  mere  business  of  being  her  husband  was  sufficiently 
absorbing  to  occupy  a  man's  entire  time  and  thought. 
She  had  a  remarkably  clear  head  and  a  good  business 
judgment  herself ;  but  she  paid  Horace  the  compliment 
of  thinking  his  better.  He  was  obliged,  whether  he 
would  or  not,  to  neglect  his  work  in  the  legislature  ;  and 
the  opportunity  to  make  his  power  and  influence  felt  in 


32O  THE  MAMMON" 

the  Senate  slipped  out  of  his  hand  before  he  was  aware 
of  it.  Indications  began  to  appear,  before  the  end  of  the 
session,  that  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  rich  man  who  was 
playing  at  politics. 

Kate  had  a  definite,  preconceived  idea  of  what  a  mar- 
riage ought  to  be  ;  and  though  it  was  somewhat  at  vari- 
ance with  her  husband's  idea  on  the  same  subject,  she 
managed  to  make  him  live  up  to  her  ideal.  If  she  had 
attempted  to  define  it  she  would  have  said  that  marriage 
should  be  a  rational  and  well-bred  companionship  between 
two  people  who  could  advance  themselves  and  advance 
each  other's  purposes  by  joining  forces.  She  had,  how- 
ever, a  strong  conviction  that  her  purposes  were  by  far 
more  rational  and  more  important  than  his  ;  and  that  it 
was  his  duty  for  the  present  to  subordinate  his  interests 
to  hers.  When  a  man  married  a  woman  of  her  wealth, 
position,  and  general  superiority,  it  was  but  fair  to  demand 
of  him  a  certain  appreciation  of  his  good  fortune.  He 
might,  at  least,  hold  his  own  affairs  in  abeyance,  and 
allow  hers  to  take  precedence.  If  Mrs.  Larkin  had  for- 
mulated any  such  theory  of  marriage  and  propounded  it  to 
her  husband,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  he  would  have  rebelled. 
But  she  was  too  clever  to  commit  any  such  blunder.  She 
quietly  absorbed  him  and  took  possession  of  him,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  without  consulting  his  preferences.  She 
treated  him  with  respect  and  with  a  kind  of  friendly  cam- 
araderie which  made  it  impossible  to  rebuff  her.  She 
enjoyed  conversing  with  him  when,  as  she  termed  it,  he 
was  in  his  rational  mood  ;  liked  to  have  him  explain  the 
position  of  parties  on  the  issues  of  the  day,  and  asked 
intelligent  questions  which  showed  that  she  understood 
him  completely.  But  if,  as  sometimes  happened,  his  ad- 
miration for  her  degenerated  into  tenderness,  she  grew 
chilly  and  reserved,  and  administered  prompt  rebuffs. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  the  futility  of  such  approaches,  and  had 
conquered  the  sheepishness,  incident  upon  a  repelled 
caress,  she  freely  forgave  him,  and  serenely  resumed 
her  discussion. 

If  any  one  had  told  Horace  Larkin,  a  year  ago,  that  he 
was  to  become  so  solicitous  about  the  favor  of  any  mortal 
creature,  he  would  have  laughed  him  to  scorn.  But,  if 
he  had  had  the  courage  to  contemplate  his  situation 
clearly,  he  could  not  have  escaped  the  conclusion  that  he 
was  in  a  mild  and  polite  way  henpecked.  His  wife  grew 
more  formidable  and  at  the  same  time  more  admirable  to 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  321 

him  with  every  month  that  passed.  Only  on  a  single 
occasion  did  he  achieve  a  victory  over  her  ;  and  then, 
like  a  prudent  general,  she  only  retired  from  an  indefen- 
sible position. 

Bills  had  been  accumulating  to  an  alarming  extent  in 
the  house,  and  a  month  passed  before  Kate  took  any  steps 
to  pay  them.  Horace  had  a  certain  delicacy  in  calling  her 
attention  to  the  subject  ;  because  legally  he  was  the  debtor, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that,  in  permitting  her  to  pay  his  bills, 
he  abdicated  the  headship  of  the  family,  and  assumed  a 
position  of  subordination  and  inferiority.  Yet  he  did  not 
have  the  money  to  defray  the  lavish  expenses  which  she 
incurred  ;  especially  as  the  building  of  his  house  in  Torry- 
ville  was  a  heavy  drain  upon  his  resources.  It  was  there- 
fore a  relief  to  him  when  Kate  one  morning,  after  break- 
fast, handed  him  a  check  book  and  begged  him  to  settle  up 
all  accounts. 

"  But  I  have  no  deposit  in  the  Second  National  Bank," 
he  said,  seeing  that  the  check  book  was  issued  by  that  in- 
stitution. 

"  But  I  have,"  she  answered  ;  "you  only  make  out  the 
checks  and  I  will  sign  them." 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  he  said,  firmly  ;  "but  I  cannot 
agree  to  that  arrangement." 

"  May  I  ask  you  why  you  object  to  it  ? " 

"  In  point  of  law,  the  man  is  the  head  o£  the  house.  I 
wish  to  preserve,  at  least,  the  semblance  of  that  character." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  deprive  you  of  it.  But  I  must  insist 
upon  my  right  to  do  with  my  own  as  I  want." 

"  Certainly  ;  only  there  is  no  need  of  insisting." 

"  Then  what  are  we  disagreeing  about  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  pay  my  bills  with  your  checks." 

"  I  have  no  objection,  if  you  prefer  it,  to  your  paying 
them  with  your  own." 

There  was  a  sting  of  sarcasm  in  this  remark,  which  made 
him  wince.  A  slow  wrath  began  to  smoulder  in  his  vitals, 
and  threatened  to  break  into  flame.  She  had  the  best  of 
the  argument  apparently,  and  yet  he  felt  that  he  was  right. 
There  is  nothing  so  irritating  as  to  be  worsted  in  argument 
by  your  wife.  Horace  could  not  afford  to  retire' from  the 
bout  except  with  flying  colors. 

"  Mrs.  Larkin,"  he  said  with  keen,  incisive  emphasis,   "  I 
will  pay  the  bills,  as  you  suggest.     But  I  must  insist,  hence- 
forth, on  your  cutting  down  the  scale  of  your  expenditures 
and  living  within  my  income." 
21 


322  THE  MAMMON 

He  handed  her  the  check  book  and  walked  slowly  out  of 
the  room.  All  his  soul  was  aroused  and  his  strong  frame 
shook  with  suppressed  anger.  Had  it  come  to  this,  that 
he  must  go  to  his  wife  for  pocket  money  and  advertise  to 
the  world  his  dependence  upon  her,  at  the  same  time  that  he 
sacrificed  to  her  his  career  and  his  honorable  ambition.  No, 
he  would  have  this  thing  settled  now  and  here  ;  and  he  won  Id 
not  yield  an  inch.  They  must  agree  upon  a  modus  vivendi  ; 
otherwise  life  would  be  unendurable. 

He  was  still  passionately  absorbed  in  this  meditation  as 
he  entered  the  Senate  chamber  and  flung  himself  into  his 
seat.  A  page  came  up  and  handed  him  a  dozen  letters. 
He  tore  them  open,  one  after  another,  and  glanced  at  the 
signatures  ;  but  he  could  not  fix  his  mind  on  their  contents. 
A  bill  was  being  languidly  debated,  the  object  of  which  was 
to  remove  all  safeguards  against  fraud  in  the  awarding  of 
canal  contracts.  The  representatives  of  the  Canal  Ring 
were  there  in  full  force,  and  their  paid  hirelings  on  the  floor 
of  the  Senate  had  it  apparently  all  their  own  way.  Horace 
sat  listening  with  a  vague  irritation  to  their  thinly  veiled 
arguments  in  favor  of  corruption,  and  it  struck  him  sud- 
denly what  a  wretched  pass  democracy  had  come  to,  when 
enterprising  scoundrels  could  stand  up,  in  the  full  light  of 
publicity,  and  with  pretences  that  deceived  nobody,  facili- 
tate the  schemes  of  thieves  and  plunderers.  The  wrath  with- 
in him  as  he  sat  listening  to  these  harangues  gradually  di- 
verted him  from  his  personal  grievances  ;  and  he  began  to 
itch  to  give  these  shameless  fellows  a  whack  over  the  head. 
Without  a  moment's  deliberation  he  rose  from  his  seat  and 
addressed  the  speaker.  A  ripple  of  interest  ran  through 
the  assembly  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  He  had  brought 
a  reputation  with  him  from  the  lower  house,  but  had  so  far 
done  nothing  in  the  Senate  to  justify  it.  There  was  a 
rousing  clarion  note  in  his  voice,  when  he  was  deeply  stirred, 
and  before  he  had  spoken  five  minutes,  all  conversation  had 
ceased,  and  the  letter-writing  members  had  laid  down  their 
pens  and  were  straining  their  ears  to  listen.  For  once  in  his 
life  he  threw  policy  to  the  winds  and  spoke  out  of  the  depth 
of  his  conviction,  striking  right  and  left  and  caring  little 
whom  he  hit.  He  surpassed  himself  in  vigor  and  in  reck- 
less sledge-hammer  eloquence.  He  showed  up  the  purpose 
of  the  bill,  waxed  indignant  over  its  iniquity,  and  tore  the 
arguments  of  its  defenders  into  shreds  with  a  fierce  vindic- 
tive delight.  The  doings  of  the  Canal  Ring,  its  composi- 
tion and  its  whole  inner  history  had  been  familiar  to  him 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

for  many  years  ;  but,  somehow,  they  had  never  stirred  his 
wrath  until  to-day.  The  rumor  spread  through  the  cor- 
ridors that  the  Hon.  Horace  Larkin  was  making  an  assault 
upon  the  lobby,  and  the  galleries  rapidly  filled  with  alarmed 
members  of  the  third  chamber.  When,  at  the  end  of  an 
hour,  the  honorable  gentleman  sat  down,  the  universe,  as 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  was  restored  to  equilibrium.  He 
had  retrieved  himself  in  his  own  eyes.  He  was  yet  a  power 
in  the  world,  whatever  he  might  be  in  his  own  household. 
The  air  about  him  seemed  charged  with  electricity.  The 
reporters  were  scribbling  away  for  dear  life,  preparing  de- 
spatches to  telegraph  to  all  the  corners  of  the  continent. 
Not  a  soul  ventured  to  lift  his  voice  in  favor  of  the  bill, 
after  the  irrefutable  exposure  it  had  received,  but  at  the 
voting  which  followed,  it  must  be  admitted,  that  it  came 
within  a  dozen  votes  of  receiving  a  majority.  The  Senate 
adjourned  on  the  motion  of  some  rural  Solon  who  seemed 
badly  frightened  ;  and  Horace  sauntered  out,  but  was  over- 
taken in  the  lobby  by  two  so-called  "  dude  members  "  from 
New  York  City,  who  were  profuse  in  their  congratulations. 
He  grew  shy,  however,  at  their  eagerness  to  claim  him  as 
a  brother  reformer.  He  was  by  no  means  sure,  yet,  that  his 
path  lay  on  that  side  ;  and  he  was  in  no  haste  to  commit 
himself. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Horace  that  his  speech  had  the  least 
bearing  upon  his  matrimonial  problem.  The  thought  of 
meeting  his  wife  was  not  pleasant  to  him.  It  was  chiefly  to 
postpone  the  evil  hour  that  he  walked  about  the  city  and 
finally  found  himself  in  the  open  country  under  a  bright 
cold  sky,  with  bare  brown  fields  on  either  hand.  He  pre- 
sently heard  the  firm,  rhythmic  hoof-beat  of  horses  and  the 
roll  of  carriage  wheels  over  the  smooth  highway.  The  metal- 
lic clicking  of  the  harness  sounded  close  by,  and  in  the 
next  moment  there  was  a  great  splash,  as  the  animals 
struck  a  puddle  in  the  road,  and  before  he  could  look 
about  he  felt  the  mud  plastering  his  face  and  flying  about 
his  ears.  He  stopped  angrily,  and  was  about  to  shout  to 
the  coachman  ;  but  recognizing  that  worthy  by  the  august 
dignity  of  his  back,  remained  silent.  He  caught  a  glimpse, 
too,  of  Mrs.  Larkin,  wrapped  in  her  precious  furs,  lolling 
in  the  corner  of  her  carriage,  with  her  air  of  vague  disap- 
proval of  the  world  in  general. 

"  Great  God,"  he  murmured  with  clenched  teeth,  as  he 
shook  his  fist  after  the  departing  carriage,  "  if  I  don't  get 
even  with  you " 


324  THE   MAMMON 

He  contemplated  his  figure,  dripping  with  mud,  and 
merely  to  give  vent  to  his  overcharged  feelings  swore  a 
long  voluminous  oath.  Then  he  pulled  out  his  handker- 
chief, rubbed  his  face  and  picked  the  dirt  out  of  his  mus- 
tache. A  fierce  resentment  flared  up  in  his  heart.  And 
yet  what  had  she  done  to  him  to  arouse  such  savage  senti- 
ments ?  She  had  surely  not  directed  her  coachman  to  give 
him  a  mud-bath.  She  had  simply  not  seen  him,  and  if  her 
coachman  had  seen  him,  he  had  not  recognized  him.  And 
yet  there  was  a  symbolic  significance  in  the  act  which 
made  it  atrocious,  in  spite  of  its  being  unintentional.  It 
was  thus  she  drove  through  life,  calm  and  imperious,  de- 
void of  all  fellow-feeling  for  her  kind,  and  heedlessly  be- 
spattering the  chance  wayfarer  with  the  mud  from  her 
carriage  wheels.  He  had  hoped  to  occupy  the  vacant  seat 
at  her  side ;  but  somehow,  he  lacked  the  impudence  to  do 
it  with  good  grace  ;  there  was  a  democratic  strain  in  his 
blood  which  made  him,  in  spite  of  his  equestrian  facilities, 
afoot  passenger. 

He  got  home,  under  the  cover  of  the  twilight,  and  made 
his  toilet  for  dinner.  Mrs.  Larkin  had  made  the  dress  coat 
and  the  white  tie  obligatory ;  and  though  he  rebelled 
against  what  appeared  to  him  senseless  ceremony,  he 
lacked  courage  to  avow  himself  in  her  eyes  a  plebeian. 
He  resolved,  as  he  descended  the  stairs,  not  to  refer  to  his 
accident  and  to  repress  the  resentment  which  it  had  excit- 
ed, for  he  was  rational  enough  to  see  that  in  marriage 
slight  causes  may  have  long  and  disastrous  results.  Having 
taken  this  woman  for  better  or  for  worse,  and  knowing 
what  an  irrevocable  fact  she  was  in  his  life,  he  would  only 
be  punishing  himself  in  arousing  feelings  in  her  which 
must  make  their  intercourse  more  difficult.  So  he  greeted 
her,  as  she  entered  the  drawing-room,  with  the  ceremo- 
nious stiffness  which  she  liked,  offered  her  his  arm  and  con- 
ducted her  to  the  table.  He  felt  that  in  doing  this  he  had 
gone  far  enough  ;  and  he  made  no  further  effort  to  make 
himself  agreeable. 

ft  I  was  sorry  you  did  not  come  home  early  enough  to 
take  a  drive  with  me,"  she  said,  tasting  her  consomm^  "  I 
enjoyed  it  very  much." 

"  So  did  I,"  he  answered,  with  a  sardonic  grin. 

"  Ah.     Then  you,  too,  went  driving  ?" 

"  No,  I  went  on  foot." 

The  tone  of  these  answers  convinced  Kate  that  her  amia- 
bility was  wasted,  and  she  quickly  withdrew  her  antennae 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  $2$ 

into  the  shell  of  her  icy  reserve.  And  thus  they  sat  through 
a  long  dinner  of  half  a  dozen  courses,  glancing  furtively  at 
each  other,  while  they  ate  their  costly  delicacies  without 
the  least  appreciation  'of  their  choice  flavors.  Horace  was 
angry  and  miserable  ;  Kate  was  offended  and  miserable,  and 
felt  that  her  dignity  would  never  permit  her  to  make 
another  advance  toward  such  a  boor  as  her  husband.  When 
the  meal,  at  last,  came  to  an  end,  he  excused  himself  and 
retired  into  the  library,  where  he  sat  smoking  and  ponder- 
ing his  wretchedness  until  midnight. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  the  same  pleasant  panto- 
mime was  repeated ;  and  the  situation  seemed  doubly  un- 
endurable. Horace,  feeling  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand, 
determined  to  precipitate  it  by  carrying  out  his  threat 
in  regard  to  the  bills,  discharge  the  superfluous  servants, 
and  enforce  discipline,  without  regard  for  consequences. 
He  spent  the  morning  in  the  library,  signing  checks  and 
writing  letters,  and  was  about  to  start  for  the  Capitol, 
when  Kate  entered  the  room  unannounced,  and  seated  her- 
self in  an  easy  chair  close  to  his  desk.  He  noticed  with 
some  astonishment  that  she  carried  two  New  York  papers 
in  her  hand,  and  that  the  severity  of  her  expression  was 
much  relaxed. 

"  Have  you  read  that?"  she  asked,  putting  one  of  the 
papers  before  him  on  the  desk;  "I  thought  you  might 
like  to  see  it."  He  took  up  the  paper  and  read  a  report 
of  his  speech  of  yesterday  and  an  editorial  in  which 
the  ability  and  the  courage  of  his  performance  were  highly 
praised.  He  was  hailed  as  the  coming  man  in  his  party, 
and  a  great  future  was  prophesied  him. 

"Why  have  you  not  told  me  of  this  ?"  she  asked  with 
grave  friendliness. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  would  interest  you,"  he  answered, 
doggedly. 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  me,  Mr.  Larkin  ;  nothing  would 
interest  me  more." 

"  You  think  it  might  induce  the  President  to  send  me 
to  the  Court  of  St.  James?"  he  asked,  flinging  himself 
back  in  his  chair,  and  smiling  sarcastically. 

"Not  at  once,"  she  replied,  with  imperturbable  compos- 
ure ;  "  we  can  afford  to  wait." 

He  was  much  tempted  to  resume  his  writing  and  ignore 
her  presence.  His  dignity  seemed  to  demand  that  he 
should  snub  her  ;  but  he  was  either  not  brave  enough  or 
not  rude  enough  to  obey  this  impulse,  for  she  was  a  tre- 


326  THE 

mendous  fact,  this  serene,  beautiful  woman,  with  herclear 
brow,  her  fine  intelligence,  and  her  firm  and  definite  pur- 
poses.  How  could  he  help  admiring  her  ?  She  was  ex- 
actly the  type  of  womanhood  which  a  priori  \\Q  would  have 
judged  to  be  most  admirable.  And  yet  she  roused  the 
old  Adam  in  him  with  a  frightful  persistency,  and  made 
him  fear  that,  before  he  was  done  with  her,  he  would  get 
to  the  point  of  striking  her. 

Kate,  if  she  had  any  perception  of  what  was  going  on 
in  her  husband's  mind,  was  not  disturbed  by  it.  She  was 
capable,  not  of  forgiving,  but  of  ignoring  a  great  deal  that 
was  unpleasant,  after  having  received  this  forcible  proof 
that  she  had  not  been  mistaken  in  her  judgment  of  him. 

"Mr.  Larkin,"  she  said,  rising  and  leaning  with  her 
hand  on  the  side  of  the  desk,  "would  you  kindly  let  me 
know  what  arrangement  would  be  satisfactory  to  you,  in 
the  matter  of  our  common  expenses  ?  " 

He  was  taken  aback  by  the  suddenness  of  the  question. 
He  was  too  obtuse  to  see  the  connection  between  this 
proposed  surrender  and  the  prophecies  of  the  New  York 
paper. 

"What  goodwill  it  do  you  to  know?"  he  asked;  "I 
shouldn't  like  to  risk  a  second  refusal." 

"You  would  oblige  me  by  telling  me." 

"  Very  well,  then.  My  proposal  is  that  you  should 
hand  over  to  me  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  or  every 
half  year  whatever  sum  you  may  see  fit  to  contribute  to- 
ward the  running  of  our  household.  The  administration 
of  it  must  be  in  my  name  and  in  my  hands.  If  you  have 
suggestions  to  make,  I'll  listen  to  you  with  pleasure,  but 
the  deciding  voice  must  be  mine." 

She  gazed  at  him  for  a  while  in  silence,  and  her  features 
brightened  with  a  look  of  pride  and  gratification. 

"  Would  you  allow  me,"  she  inquired,  with  extreme 
courtesy,  "  to  take  your  place  for  a  moment  at  the  desk  ?  " 

He  arose,  somewhat  mystified,  and  offered  her  his  chair. 

"  I'll  be  parboiled  if  I  know  what  she  is  up  to  now," 
was  his  mental  comment.  He  regarded  her  movements 
with  the  kind  of  interested  curiosity  with  which  one 
watches  the  gesticulations  of  a  conjurer  when  anything 
imaginable  may  be  the  result.  She  took  a  pen,  tried  it  on 
the  back  of  an  envelope,  and  pulling  her  small  check  book 
from  her  pocket  proceeded  to  draw  a  check.  It  would 
have  been  hard  to  tell  why  at  this  point  he  looked  away 
with  a  marked  assumption  of  indifference.  He  took  a  little 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  32? 

stroll  on  the  floor,  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  began 
softly  to  whistle.  When  he  had  finished  this  little  farce  to 
his  own  satisfaction,  he  found  his  wife  standing  in  front 
of  him. 

"Would  you  kindly  accept  this  as  my  first  contribu- 
tion ?"  she  said  simply,  handing  him  the  check  ;  and  with 
a  slight  salutation  she  left  the  room. 

Half  dumfounded  he  stood  and  looked,  now  at  the  door, 
now  at  the  slip  of  paper  he  held  in  his  hand.  There 
was  not  a  suspicion  of  eclat  or  dramatic  effect  in  her  man- 
ner. But  the  very  absence  of  it,  the  queenly  simplicity 
of  her  speech  and  act,  made  you  listen  for  the  orchestral 
flourish  which  follows  a  climax  in  dramatic  action. 

"  Pay  to  Horace  Larkin  or  bearer  Fifty  Thousand  Dollars — 
$50,000 — Catharine  Van  Schaak  Larkin" — were  the  words 
which  he  read,  and  re-read  until  they  made  him  dizzy. 
He  realized  slowly  what  they  meant.  He  was  a  victor, 
indeed,  but  for  all  that  he  felt  defeated.  It  was  Pyrrhic 
victory. 


328  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A   MATRIMONIAL   CHRONICLE. 

The  family  on  the  sixth  floor  of  the  Patagonia  consisted 
no  longer  of  two  but  of  three.  A  little  brown  and  wrinkled 
fragment  of  humanity  had  arrived  about  six  weeks  ago, 
and  had  made  no  end  of  commotion  in  the  household. 
It  was,  for  all  that,  enthusiastically  welcomed,  and  after 
some  rather  spirited  disputes  between  his  parents,  it  was 
named  Obed  Larkin.  While  he  was  in  the  vegetable 
state,  devoting  himself  solely  to  the  absorption  of  nourish- 
ment, his  father,  curiously  enough,  took  a  livelier  interest 
in  him  than  his  mother  ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  had  ac- 
quired some  rudimentary  accomplishments,  such  as  smil- 
ing, kicking,  and  putting  his  toes  in  his  mouth,  that  the 
latter  began  to  discover  his  charms.  But  then,  Gertrude 
had  been  very  ill,  and  under  peculiarly  trying  circum- 
stances. She  was  subject  to  unaccountable  moods  arid,  at 
times,  the  burden  of  poverty  was  so  heavy  that  it  seemed 
as  if  she  must  break  down  under  it.  Aleck  was  now  part 
proprietor  of  the  school ;  his  heart  was  in  his  work,  and  he 
was  looked  upon  as  a  successful  teacher.  But  if  he  was 
successful,  she  argued,  how  could  he  be  content  with  a 
paltry  $2,500,  which  was  less  than  many  a  clerk  got,  who 
had  neither  his  intellect  nor  his  culture?  Aleck  was  en- 
tirely unable  to  explain  this  to  her  satisfaction,  although 
he  exerted  himself  hard  enough.  He  tried  his  best  to  keep 
a  brave  heart  amid  all  their  tribulations,  and  he  thought 
a  hundred  times,  when  her  moods  tried  him  beyond  endur- 
ance, of  the  physician's  saying  that  she  had  inherited  poor 
nerves.  He  could  not  be  angry  with  her  for  a  physical 
ailment  which  had  been  bequeathed  to  her  at  her  birth  by 
Him  who  visits  the  iniquities  of  the  fathers  upon  the  chil- 
dren. And  moreover,  he  loved  her  so  dearly,  that  even 
when  she  tortured  him,  his  heart  was  full  of  tenderness 
and  pity,  and  he  thanked  God  that  it  had  fallen  to  his  lot 
to  comfort  and  protect  her.  He  did  not  rebel  against  his 
fate,  nor  did  he  waste  time  in  vain  regrets.  He  had  not 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  329 

expected  a  life  of  unalloyed  bliss,  and  knew  that  he  had 
no  right  to  expect  it.  A  cheerful  resignation  is  compatible 
with  a  good  deal  of  happiness  ;  and  there  were  moments 
when  Aleck  blessed  even  his  trials  for  the  sweet  rewards 
they  sometimes  brought  him. 

I  may  as  well  admit  it  ;  the  code  of  conduct  in  the  Pata- 
gonia was  a  little  peculiar.  When  Gertie,  after  a  prolonged 
attack  of  the  blues,  sat  opposite  to  her  husband  at  the 
table,  eating  nothing  and  feeling  a  vague  resentment  of 
his  appetite,  it  would  occasionally  happen  that  the  absurd- 
ity of  her  own  behavior  struck  her  and  she  would  give 
little  lugubrious  laughs,  to  which  he  would  sympatheti- 
cally respond,  although  he  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of 
what  provoked  her  mirth.  Only,  on  general  principles,  he 
was  anxious  to  encourage  any  cheerful  impulse  she  might 
have.  Then,  when  the  meal  was  at  an  end,  she  would,  by 
way  of  reconciliation,  rumple  his  hair  a  little  in  passing 
his  chair,  and  he  would  feel  as  grateful  for  this  attention 
as  if  it  had  been  the  tenderest  caress.  Perhaps,  after  the 
lapse  of  five  or  ten  minutes  she  would  invade  his  humble 
library,  and  seating  herself  upon  his  lap  attribute  to  herself 
all  manner  of  obnoxious  qualities  in  the  hope  that  he 
would  contradict  her. 

"  I  have  been  perfectly  horrid,  Aleck,  haven't  I !  " 

"No,  dear,  you  haven't  been  horrid  ;  you  couldn't  be 
horrid,  even  if  you  tried  to." 

"  But  I  have  tried  to,  Aleck  ;  I  have  been  as  bad  as  I 
possibly  could." 

"  You  have  tried  to  be  horrid  ?  Why,  dearest,  I  can't 
quite  believe  that." 

"  You  don't  know  me,  Aleck,  I  know  myself  I  am  per- 
fectly detestable,  and  yet  I  can't  help  it.  There  is  a  kind 
of  blue  devil  inside  of  me  who  makes  me  do  and  say  the 
most  abominable  things  to  you.  I  would  give  the  world 
to  be  cheerful  and  contented,  but  it  is  no  good  to  try,  I 
simply  can't.  And  this  blue  devil  leaves  me  quite  as  sud- 
denly as  he  comes.  And  then  I  know  how  miserable  I 
have  made  you,  Aleck." 

He  knew  from  sad  experience  how  dangerous  it  was  to 
agree  with  her,  when  she  was  in  this  mood  of  self-accusa- 
tion, or  even  to  show  the  slightest  disposition  to  concede 
that  there  was  a  modicum  of  truth  in  her  indictment.  The 
penalty  for  such  an  unwary  admission  was  apt  to  be 
severer  than  justice  demanded. 

"Well,  Mr.  Larkin,"    she  would  say,   withdrawing  her 


33O  THE  MA  MM  OX 

arms  from  his  neck,  as  abruptly  as  if  he  had  been  a  leper, 
"  if  that  is  your  opinion  of  me,  it  is  a  great  pity  you  didn't 
find  it  out  before.  You  might  then  have  been  saved  the 
mistake  of  marrying  me." 

Whereupon  she  would  rise  from  his  lap  and  walk  out  of 
the  room  deeply  offended,  and  he  would  vainly  spend  the 
rest  of  the  evening  in  all  sorts  of  ingenious  devices  to  coax 
her  back  into  good  humor. 

Of  course  he  soon  learned  his  lesson.  He  became  a 
positive  expert  in  affectionate  mendacity.  He  could  tell 
to  a  "t"  what  answer  she  expected,  and  never  scrupled  to 
give  it.  After  a  while  these  domestic  excursions  into  the 
domain  of  fiction  lost  all  relation  to  his  conscience.  With 
admirable  brazenness  he  told  her  ten  times  a  week  that 
she  was  the  most  amiable  woman  in  the  world,  and  that 
she  had  not  the  remotest  suggestion  of  a  temper.  And 
I  when  it  suited  her  mood  to  dispute  this  assertion,  he  would 
admit  with  a  judicial  mien  that  she  had  spirit,  and  that 
he  had  no  respect  for  a  woman  who  had  not. 

Thus  passed  year  after  year  of  their  married  life.  They 
grew  a  trifle  more  prosperous  and  were  able  to  move  into 
a  better  flat.  Another  boy  arrived,  and  came  near  receiv- 
ing the  name  of  Horace,  but  Gertrude  professed  such  an 
aversion  for  this  name  that  Aleck  was  obliged  to  change  it 
to  Ralph.  Obed  had  in  the  meanwhile  grown  very  hand- 
some and  had  developed  the  most  fascinating  character- 
istics. He  was  scarcely  three  years  old  when  he  began  to 
show  (as  his  father  thought)  evidences  of  an  unusual  intel- 
lect. His  pride  in  the  boy  and  his  affection  for  him  knew  no 
bounds,  and  he  did  whatever  he  could  to  spoil  him.  In 
the  school,  among  his  fellow-teachers,  he  never  failed  to  re- 
late Obed's  last  clever  saying,  until  on  one  occasion  he 
happened  to  see  a  cartoon  in  Puck,  representing  a  man 
who  stands  alone  at  one  end  of  a  room,  disconsolately  turn- 
ing over  some  photographs,  while  at  the  other  end  twenty 
or  thirty  people  are  crowded  together  in  animated  conver- 
sation. And  under  the  picture  he  read  the  legend  :  "  This  is 
the  fiend  who  tells  the  bright  sayings  of  his  five-year-old 
son."  It  was  a  warning  which  he  could  not  afford  to  dis- 
regard. Instead  of  bragging  to  his  friends  of  his  child's 
cleverness  he  now  kept  a  diary  in  which  all  the  evidences 
of  Obed's  precocity  were  faithfully  chronicled. 

Most  women,  after  marriage,  sink  the  wife  in  the 
mother,  or  the  mother  in  the  wife.  The  force  of  their 
affection  flows  abundantly  in  the  one  direction  or  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  331 

other,  but  never  equally  in  both.  Gertrude,  after  the 
birth  of  her  children,  felt  a  new  well-spring  of  love  open- 
ing in  her  breast.  The  old  aimlessness  of  her  life,  which 
had  been  its  chief  affliction,  distressed  her  no  more. 
Every  moment  of  the  day  had  its  urgent  duties,  and  though 
she  did  not  profess  to  find  them  always  delightful,  they 
yet  filled  a  want  in  her  heart  and  prevented  her  from 
nursing  empty  griefs.  She  was  fully  convinced  that,  if 
the  opportunity  had  been  afforded  her,  she  would  have 
risen  to  fame  as  a  sculptor.  Her  talent,  as  it  ceased  to  be 
actively  exercised,  became  less  a  source  of  vexation  to  her 
and  more  one  of  pride.  It  redeemed  her  from  the  dreary 
commonplaceness  which  is  the  lot  of  the  vast  majority  of 
women.  It  made  her  exceptional  and  justified  a  height- 
ened self-respect.  Social  position,  she  persuaded  herself, 
she  did  not  care  for  ;  and  Aleck  strengthened  her  to 
the  extent  of  his  ability  in  her  wholesome  contempt  for 
conventionalities.  He  was  innocent  enough  to  believe 
in  her  sincerity,  when  she  commiserated  those  earth- 
clogged  souls  who  drove  in  carriages  and  had  no  thought 
beyond  fashion  plates  and  the  exchange  of  inane  civilities. 
As  if  there  ever  was  a  woman,  from  Sappho  and  Madame 
de  Stael  down,  who  did  not  yearn  for  the  conventional ! 

Aleck  sometimes  in  his  saner  moments  suspected  that  he 
spoiled  his  wife.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  more  anxious 
he  grew  to  please  her,  the  harder  she  grew  to  please. 
Occasionally  when  his  friends,  Miller  and  Tuthill,  who 
were  employed  in  the  school,  told  him  how  they  managed 
their  wives,  he  resolved  to  take  Gertrude  seriously  in  hand 
and  once  for  all  establish  his  authority  over  her.  But 
somehow  the  time  seemed  never  opportune  for  beginning 
this  course  of  discipline.  Either  Gertrude  was  too  charm- 
ing in  her  perversity,  or  too  touchingly  sweet  in  her  pouts, 
or  she  was  not  in  very  good  health,  which  might  account 
for  her  irrational  conduct.  And  was  he,  after  all,  such  an 
exemplary  fellow  himself  that  he  could  afford  to  set  him- 
self up  as  a  judge  over  her  ? 

It  was  while  this  question  of  discipline  was  troubling 
Aleck,  that  Gertrude  declared  that  she  wanted  a  fine  etching 
on  the  wall  over  the  sofa.  Couldn't  Aleck  spare  a  Satur- 
day afternoon  and  go  with  her  on  an  expedition  in  search 
of  something  effective  and  appropriate.  She  knew  exactly 
what  she  wanted;  but  she  would  yet  prefer  to  consult 
him.  Quite  flattered  at  this  consideration  he  started  out 
with  her,  arid  made  the  round  of  the  stores  which  make  a 


332  THE  MAMMON1 

specialty  of  etchings.  But  the  most  hopeless  diversity 
of  taste  soon  became  apparent.  Gertrude  would  look  at 
nothing  but  dogs,  while  Aleck,  as  she  contemptuously 
averred,  would  look  at  nothing  but  girls. 

"  Suppose,  Gertie,"  her  husband  proposed,  when  the 
twentieth  store  had  been  visited,  "  suppose  we  strike  a 
compromise.  I  am  willing,  if  you  say  so,  to  take  a  girl 
with  a  dog." 

"As  if  that  were  a  compromise,"  retorted  Gertrude,  pug- 
naciously ;  "  then  you  would  have  your  way  after  all." 

"  What,  then,  would  you  propose  ?"  he  inquired,  wearily. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I — I — would  propose  a  dog  with 'a 
girl." 

"  All  right,  dear.  You  take  your  choice.  I  have  got  to 
run  over  to  Brentano's.  I'll  be  back  in  fifteen  minutes." 

Having  finished  his  errand,  he  returned.  His  wife  met 
him  in  the  door  with  a  radiant  face.  She  professed  great 
delight  at  seeing  him,  and  talked  vivaciously  about  every- 
thing under  the  sun.  When  they  got  home,  an  hour  and 
a  half  later,  Aleck  was  confronted  with  six  dogs'  heads  set 
in  a  panel. 

"But  where  is  the  girl,  Gertie?"  he  exclaimed,  too 
amused  to  be  angry. 

"Well  now,  Aleck,"  she  replied,  coaxingly,  seizing  his 
arm  and  gazing  up  into  his  eyes,  "don't  you  think  dogs 
are  a  great  deal  nicer  ?  " 

"Well,  dear,"  he  ejaculated  laughing,  "when  they  are 
well  disciplined,  I  almost  think  they  are." 

"So  do  I  ;  but  you  know,  that's  just  the  trouble  with 
girls  ;  they  cant  be  disciplined." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ? " 

There  came  a  challenging  light  into  her  eyes,  in  which 
there  lurked  yet  a  spark  of  amusement. 

"  If  you  have  any  doubt  on  the  subject,  suppose  you  try 
the  experiment,"  she  said,  with  humorous  defiance. 

"No,  I'll  take  your  word  for  it,  dear.  You  know 
best." 

"  But  really,  don't  you  think  those  dogs  are  lovely, 
Aleck?" 

"Well,  I  can't  say  I  do  ;  but  I  shall  probably  get  used 
to  them  after  a  while." 

"  Now,  Aleck,  that's  perfectly  horrid  in  you  to  say 
that.  You  only  say  it  to  make  me  wretched." 

"Well,  dear,  to  be  frank,  I  think  I  am  beginning  to  like 
the  picture  more,  the  more  I  look  at  it.  You  know  you 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  333 

can  never  tell  at  once  whether  you  like  a  picture.  You 
have  to  live  with  it." 

"  Yes,  exactly.  That's  what  I  have  always  insisted.  And 
don't  you  think  that  Collie-Calypso  is  a  perfect  beauty  ?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  really  very  fine.  Such  faithful  eyes  and 
such  solemn  dignity  in  her  expression." 

"  Well  now,  Aleck,  that  is  perfectly  charming.  I  knew 
you  would  in  the  end  agree  with  me." 

For  ten  minutes  more  this  discussion  was  continued  with 
coaxings  and  playful  threats,  until  Aleck  had  been  induced 
to  admit  that  all  the  six  dogs  were  beauties,  and  that  he 
liked  all  of  them — nay,  preferred  them  to  girls.  But  Ger- 
trude, after  her  first  flush  of  triumph  began  to  grow  uneasy. 
The  very  completeness  of  her  victory  caused  her  appre- 
hension. Dim  impulses  of  generosity  began  to  stir  within 
her.  When  they  had  finished  dinner  and  Aleck  had  re- 
tired into  his  study  for  a  smoke,  she  braved  his  detested 
pipe  (which  since  Obed's  birth  he  had  adopted  for  economic 
reasons)  and  seated  herself  upon  his  lap.  She  insisted 
upon  his  continuing  to  smoke,  declared  that  she  was  getting 
so  accustomed  to  his  pipe  now,  that  she  would  miss  it  if  he 
were  to  give  it  up,  and  bewildered  him  by  her  amiability 
and  her  magnanimous  proposals. 

"Aleck,  you  poor  boy,"  she  said,  "did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  I  am  not  half  as  nice  to  you  as  you  are  to  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  declared  Aleck,  laughing  ;  "how  could  anything 
so  absurd  occur  to  me  ?" 

"  But  Aleck,  it  is  really  so.  You  give  up  to  me  always  ; 
and  I  never  give  up  to  you." 

"  Don't  you  ?  Why,  my  dear,  I  think  you  are  quite 
wrong  there." 

"Tell  me  of  a  single  instance.' 

He  pondered  solemnly  for  several  minutes  and  finally 
invented  a  case  ;  but  she  took  him  up  promptly,  and  re- 
futed him ;  whereupon  she  embraced  him  with  remorseful 
tenderness  and  shed  a  few  furtive  tears.  But  when  Aleck, 
encouraged  by  her  affectionate  mood  whispered  some  en- 
dearing nonsense  in  her  ear,  and  responded  with  happy 
ardor  to  her  caresses,  she  grew  suddenly  coy,  lifted  her 
face  from  his  bosom  with  a  little  frown  of  guilty  defiance 
and  said  in  a  tone  of  grave  remonstrance  : 

"  Now,  Aleck,  don't  gush  !  Why  must  you  always  gush, 
the  moment  I  touch  you  ?  You  know  I  am  a  great  deal  too 
good  for  you  ;  but  you  are  the  only  one  I  have,  so,  of 
course,  don't  you  see  ?" 


334  THE  MAMMON 

The  inference  to  be  drawn  from  this  declaration  was  by 
no  means  flattering,  but  he  had  learned  by  this  time  to  in- 
terpret a  great  deal  of  what  she  said  in  a  Pickwickian 
sense.  For  his  love  for  her  was  like  a  radiant  luminary 
which  shed  its  warm  lustre  upon  her  every  word  and  act, 
investing  them  with  an  irresistible  charm.  "  At  bottom  she 
is  good  and  true,"  he  said  to  himself,  when  that  fact  seemed 
in  special  need  of  reaffirmation  ;  "and  I  would  not  have 
her  otherwise." 

And  this  faith  of  his  in  her  essential  goodness  was  not 
disappointed  in  the  present  instance.  When  Gertrude 
rose  from  her  slumber  the  morning  after  her  etching  ex- 
pedition, and  her  eyes  met  the  six  solemn  faces  of  the  Duke 
of  Buccleugh's  dogs,  she  grew  almost  as  solemn  as  they. 
She  could  not  comprehend  the  mysterious  change  they  had 
undergone;  they  had  lost  every  vestige  of  beauty  over 
night.  The  next  day  they  became  an  annoyance,  and  the 
third  day  they  were  a  positive  affliction.  Their  grave  re- 
proachful eyes  followed  her  wherever  she  went.  She 
could  endure  them  no  longer.  Without  notifying  Aleck,  she 
donned  her  street  costume,  visited  the  dealer  and  exchang- 
ed her  canines  for  one  of  Boughton's  old-English  girls,  and 
the  prettiest  one  she  could  find.  When  Aleck  came  home 
that  evening,  they  had  a  spirited  contest  in  magnanimity 
which  ended  with  a  little  scene  of  a  strictly  confidential 
nature  : 

"  Teach  me,  only  teach,  love, 

As  I  aught. 

I  will  speak  thy  speech,  love, 
Think  thy  thought." 

"  But,"  exclaimed  Aleck,  not  liking  to  be  outdone  in  gen- 
erosity; "you  might  at  least  have  kept  one  or  two  of  the 
dogs,  and  yet  gotten  me  my  girl." 

"No,  Aleck,"  she  answered  with  mock  gravity,  "you 
can't  expect  to  get  more  than  one  girl  for  six  dogs.  I 
should  say  that  was  a  fair  equivalent." 

There  was,  however,  a  more  serious  side  to  the  life  of 
these  affectionate  triflers  than  appeared  in  these  playful  en- 
counters. Aleck  had  never  quite  given  up  his  literary  aspi- 
rations, and  though  struggling  with  disadvantages  of  every 
kind,  saw  a  will-o'-the-wisp  of  hope  continually  dancing  in 
his  path,  luring  him  on  to  fresh  endeavors.  Several  of  his 
poems  found  their  way  into  the  magazines,  and  were  ex- 
travagantly praised  by  a  single  friendly  critic  to  whom 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  335 

Aleck,  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  had  lent  $20.  It  was 
odd,  he  thought,  for  a  debtor  to  choose  that  way  of  get- 
ting even  with  him.  If  he  had  damned  him  with  excep- 
tional virulence,  he  would  have  been  less  surprised.  To 
Gertrude,  however,  these  drops  of  praise  were  extremely 
sweet.  She  kept  the  newspaper  cuttings  in  her  sewing 
basket  (in  which  she  also  kept  her  purse  and  everything 
else,  except  what  properly  belonged  there)  and  read  them 
half  mechanically  to  herself  while  she  sat  nursing  her 
youngest  child.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  Aleck 
might  be  a  great  man — a  great  man  in  disguise,  as  she  put 
it  to  herself.  But  if  the  world  decided  that  she  was  wrong 
in  her  estimate  of  him,  she  was  more  than  willing  to  be 
convinced.  She  hoped  most  ardently,  both  for  her  own 
sake  and  for  his,  that  he  might  attain  celebrity  as  a  man 
of  letters  ;  and  that  it  might  come  to  him,  while  they  were 
both  young  enough  to  enjoy  it.  With  every  month  and 
every  year  that  passed  she  grew  more  anxious ;  until  one 
day  she  stumbled  upon  a  newspaper  paragraph,  which  in- 
formed her  that  literary  fame  was  rarely  attained  in  youth, 
and  that  Thackeray,  George  Eliot,  and  Balzac  were  well  on 
toward  forty  before  they  emerged  from  obscurity.  She  cut 
this  item  out  and  pasted  it  in  her  pocketbook  ;  and  when- 
ever her  heart  was  heavy,  she  took  it  out  and  set  herself 
bravely  to  tracing  resemblances  between  her  husband's 
circumstances  and  those  of  the  great  authors.  And  when 
finally  a  little  success  came  to  him  she  saw  in  it  a  promise 
of  the  fulfilment  of  all  her  fond  dreams. 

Aleck  happened  one  day  to  read  an  essay  by  Edmund 
Clarence  Stedman,  in  which  the  assertion  was  made  that' 
the  present  age  demanded  novels  rather  than  epics,  and 
that  we  were  living  in  a  period  of  transition  during  which 
poetry  was  suffering  an  eclipse.  Poetry  was  no  longer  the 
chief  artery  through  which  the  intellectual  vitality  of  the 
century  was  pulsing.  This  statement  struck  him  forcibly, 
and  presently  started  him  on  a  journey  of  exploration  in  his 
own  mind.  Was  he  a  poet  by  the  grace  of  God — a  man  with 
whom  lofty  rhythmic  utterance  was  natural  and  imperative  ? 
Was  he  not  rather  oppressed  by  a  dim  creative  yearning 
which  demanded  some  kind  of  expression,  and  had  chosen 
a  poetic  one  because  it  seemed  the  most  dignified  and  satis- 
factory ?  Would  it  not  be  worth  while  to  make  an  experi- 
ment in  prose,  if  the  rewards  of  authorship  lay  in  that  di- 
rection ?  A  plot  for  a  short  story  soon  occurred  to  him, 
and  it  cost  him  three  sleepless  nights  to  develop  it  consis- 


336  THE  MAMMON 

tently  in  all  its  details.  He  said  nothing  to  Gertrude  about 
it,  until  it  was  finished  and  accepted  by  one  of  the  leading 
magazines.  It  was  an  episode  of  political  life  which  he  had 
witnessed  in  his  youth,  with  a  realistic  rural  love-story  in- 
tertwined. There  was  a  strong  touch  in  it,  and  here  and 
there  great  felicity  of  phrase.  The  little  stir  it  created  was 
very  grateful  to  its  author,  for  it  opened  the  magazines  to 
him  and  stimulated  his  ambition.  At  the  solicitation  of  his 
wife  he  began  a  full-grown  novel,  entitled  "  The  Cloven 
Foot ;"  which  grew,  in  the  course  of  a  year  and  a  half,  to 
be  such  an  absorbing  topic  that  it  blotted  out  half  the  real 
life  about  them.  When  Aleck  came  home  from  the  school, 
where  he  did  his  writing  in  his  private  study,  Gertrude's 
first  question  as  she  went  to  meet  him  was  :  "  How  is  your 
Cloven  Foot?"  Then  followed  a  lively  discussion  of  the 
hero's  fate  and  the  heroine's  doings  and  sayings,  criticisms, 
designing  of  costumes,  and  unsparing  ridicule,  on  the  lady's 
part,  of  the  toilets  which  Aleck  had  evolved  from  his  inner 
consciousness.  Little  Obed,  who  sat  at  his  father's  side, 
listening  to  the  conversation,  created  much  merriment  by 
his  innocent  questions  concerning  these  fictitious  person- 
ages, in  whose  reality  he  firmly  believed.  He  heard  this 
question  :  "  How  is  your  Cloven  Foot,"  so  constantly  that 
he  took  it  to  be  a  normal  and  proper  salutation,  and  when 
Mrs.  Tuthill  called  upon  his  mother,  he  startled  that  lady 
by  saying  (after  much  vain  coaxing  to  be  polite)  :  "  How  do 
you  do  ?  And  how  is  your  Cloven  Foot  ?" 

Among  the  many  plans,  the  realization  of  which  depend- 
ed upon  the  success  of  her  husband's  novel,  was  one  which 
Gertrude  cherished  with  the  fondest  anticipations.  She 
wanted  a  house  of  her  own.  Her  bad  moods,  which  yet 
continued,  though  with  longer  intervals  than  before,  she 
attributed  to  the  discomforts  incident  upon  life  in  an  apart- 
ment house.  When  the  steam  radiators  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning  commenced  to  make  a  racket  like  a  continuous 
discharge  of  musketry,  and  roused  all  man's  unregenerate 
impulses,  she  contended  that  it  required  stronger  nerves 
than  she  possessed  to  keep  an  even  temper  through  the  day. 
When  the  shivering  old  maids  on  the  top  floor  demanded 
a  temperature  of  eighty  degrees,  and  the  pipes,  in  passing 
through  the  lower  flats,  heated  these  apartments  to  the  same 
temperature,  it  seemed  as  if  a  needless  burden  was  added 
to  existence,  and  a  little  profanity  would  have  been  excus- 
able. This  relief,  was,  however,  denied  to  Gertrude.  She 
had  to  bear  her  cross  and  be  silent.  But  she  took  it  out  in 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  337 

the  blues.  Housewifely  thrift  was  not  among  her  virtues  ; 
and  everything  relating  to  housekeeping  vexed  and  annoyed 
her.  She  had  an  idea  that  when  she  got  a  house,  all  these 
trials  would  be  at  an  end.  Servants  objected  to  flats,  for 
obvious  reasons  ;  but  when  they  were  given  free  sway  in  a 
house,  she  had  been  told  that  they  gave  far  less  trouble. 
She  was  anxious  to  try  the  experiment. 

One  trial,  which  at  the  outset  of  their  married  life  Aleck 
had  anticipated  with  dread,  was  happily  spared  them. 
Gertrude's  mother,  the  Countess  Kharlovitz,  as  she  called 
herself,  died  about  six  months  after  her  daughter's  visit  to 
her,  and  was  buried  at  Aleck's  expense.  Count  Kharl- 
ovitz, it  turned  out,  had  had  some  connection  with  a  coun- 
terfeiting gang,  and  getting  himself  entangled  with  the 
police  betook  himself  to  parts  unknown.  His  history, 
which  was  a  picturesque  and  varied  one,  was  published  in 
the  Sunday  World,  with  sundry  illustrations.  Aleck  read 
it  with  a  quaking  heart,  and  congratulated  himself  that 
there  were  some  facts  which  had  escaped  the  reporter's 
notice.  .  The  name  Larkin  was  not  mentioned  in  the  arti- 
cle. 

22 


338  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

BLIND    SKIRMISHINGS. 

After  having  served  two  terms  in  the  Senate,  Horace 
Larkin  determined  not  to  accept  a  renomination.  His 
chief  reason  for  turning  his  back  upon  the  State  Legisla- 
ture was  his  wife's  aversion  for  Albany.  During  his  sec- 
ond term  she  refused  to  accompany  him,  and  took  up  her 
residence  in  her  father's  house  in  Gramercy  Park.  He 
was,  of  course,  at  liberty  to  visit  her  there  ;  but  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  Van  Schaak  family  was  uncongenial  to  him  ; 
the  old  gentleman  irritated  him  by  his  fussiness  about  all 
sorts  of  nothings,  and  Mrs.  Van  Schaak  by  her  high-nosed 
condescension.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  simply  tolerated  ; 
and  that  it  was  only  Kate's  authority  which  secured  for 
him  a  certain  amount  of  consideration.  For  she  treated 
him  with  an  almost  ostentatious  respect  in  the  presence  of 
her  parents,  and  exacted  a  similar  treatment  from  them. 
But,  after  all,  it  was  not  pleasant  to  be  living  in  such  a 
state  of  armed  neutrality.  From  pure  inanity  and  despe- 
ration he  took  to  flirting  mildly  with  Mrs.  Adrian,  Jr.,  who, 
from  hunger  for  amusement,  pounced  upon  him  like  a 
vulture  ;  but  the  disapprobation  of  the  other  members  of 
the  family  made  the  air  so  oppressive  that  he  lost  heart  for 
the  enterprise.  On  Mrs.  Adrian,  however,  this  repressed 
condemnation  had  exactly  the  opposite  effect.  It  stimu- 
lated her  to  greater  audacity.  From  sheer  deviltry  she 
praised  Horace  to  the  skies  ;  professed  the  most  extrava- 
gant regard  for  him,  and  did  her  best  to  give  a  perfectly 
harmless  affair  the  appearance  of  a  deep  intrigue.  With 
a  mischievous  air  of  innocence  she  sat  at  the  dinner-table, 
saying  whatever  came  into  her  head,  and  attributing  to  him 
the  most  compromising  remarks,  which  he  had  never 
uttered.  And  when  he,  entering  into  the  joke,  replied  by 
attributing  to  her  some  still  more  indiscreet  utterance,  she 
would  shake  her  forefinger  at  him  in  playful  threat,  and 
exclaim  : 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  339 

"Now,  Horace,  I  wouldn't  have  believed  that  of  you. 
I'll  be  more  careful  next  time.  Never,  never  shall  I  say 
anything  nice  to  you  again." 

At  last,  when  this  comedy  had  gone  a  good  deal  further 
than  was  agreeable  to  him,  he  seriously  remonstrated  with 
his  fair  persecutor. 

"  I  hope  you'll  not  take  it  unkindly,"  he  said,  "  if  I  beg 
you  not  to  talk  of  me  the  way  you  do  at  table." 

"And  what  way  do  I  talk  about  you?"  she  inquired, 
with  mischief  lurking  in  her  eyes. 

"You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do,"  he  answered,  "  not  to 
put  too  fine  a  point  on  it — you — you  make  me  very  uncom- 
fortable by — your — fanciful  statements." 

"Why  not  say  lies?"  she  cried,  gayly.  "I  may  just  as 
well  confess  it,  I  like  to  lie.  It  is  such  a  relief  after  along 
day  of  monotonous  truth-telling." 

"And  might  I  be  permitted  to  suggest  that  you  choose 
some  other  subject  for  your  fictions  the  next  time  ?  You 
may  not  suspect  it — and,  of  course,  I  know  you  don't — 
but  you  put  me,  at  times,  in  a  very  embarrassing  posi- 
tion." 

"  Don't  I,  though  ?"  the  heartless  creature  exclaimed,  in 
great  glee;  "why,  my  dear  Horace,  who  would  have 
thought  you  were  so  unsophisticated?" 

He  perceived  that  he  must  change  his  tactics  if  he  were 
to  make  any  impression  upon  her.  She  was  absolutely 
irresponsible,  and  gloried  in  her  irresponsibility.  It  was- 
not  so  easy  a  matter  as  he  had  anticipated  to  extricate 
himself  from  her  jewelled  clutches. 

"  Do  let  us  talk  seriously,  Annie,"  he  said,  leaning  for- 
ward and  fixing  an  earnest  gaze  upon  her ;  "  I  know,  of 
course,  this  is  all  play  to  you,  but  to  me  it  may  have  serious 
consequences.  My  wife — you  know,  I  should  not  in  her 
present  condition,  wish  to  exasperate  her." 

"Ah,  but  that  is  what  I  should  like  above  all  things," 
Mrs.  Adrian  ejaculated,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  resentment 
in  her  eye  ;  "  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life,  if  I  could 
make  Kate  angry,  not  miffed  only,  you  know,  but  real 
hopping  mad.  She  has  exasperated  me  until  I  have  cried, 
not  once,  but  a  hundred  thousand  times — and  nothing 
would  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  get  even  with  her." 

"  But  you  must  excuse  me  if  I  refuse  to  be  a  party  to 
such  a  scheme,"  Horace  replied,  with  a  cool  firmness  which 
made  her  shudder  ;  "  if  I  must  have  a  quarrel,  I  prefer  to 
have  it  with  you  rather  than  with  Kate." 


340  THE  MAMMON' 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  you.  We  all  know  on  what  side 
our  bread  is  buttered.  And  still  it  is  a  great  pity,  for  you 
were  so  amusing,"  she  finished  with  a  little  sigh,  as  with  a 
mock  courtesy  she  left  the  room. 

It  was  true  ;  Kate  had  found  it  beneath  her  dignity  to 
take  notice  of  her  husband's  flirtation.  If  she  was  priv- 
ately annoyed  by  it  (as  was  not  unlikely),  her  self-respect 
was  too  great  to  permit  her  to  make  the  slightest  demon- 
stration of  dissatisfaction.  Nay,  she  even  heaped  glowing 
coals  upon  his  head  by  showing  an  interest  in  his  costume. 

"Couldn't  you  find  out,"  she  said  to  him  one  evening, 
as  he  was  conversing  with  her  in  the  up-stairs  sitting-room, 
"  where  Adrian  gets  his  clothes.  You'll  not  mind  my  tell- 
ing you  that  his  coats  and  trousers  have  a  certain  air  of 
being  comme  il  faut  which  yours  have  not." 

"  I'll  go  to  his  tailor,  if  you  like,"  he  answered  ;  "though 
I  can  scarcely  hope  to  rival  Adrian  in  elegance/' 

"Yes,  you  can.  And  I  want  you  to  promise  to  show  me 
samples  of  cloths  which  are  fashionable,  and  consult  me 
before  making  a  choice." 

When,  a  week  later,  Horace  entered  his  wife's  apart- 
ment, arrayed  in  the  garments  thus  carefully  selected,  she 
looked  at  him  critically,  and  with  visible  disappointment. 
That  indefinable  air  which  she  found  so  impressive  in  her 
brother  was  still  wanting.  Horace,  reading  her  unspoken 
judgment  in  her  face,  felt  a  kind  of  sheepish  discomfiture 
which  he  could  not  shake  off. 

"  Kate,"  he  said,  with  a  half  pathetic  laugh,  "it's  no 
good.  It  isn't  the  coat,  it's  the  man." 

She  was  almost  inclined  to  admit  the  failure  of  her  ex- 
periment ;  but  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  concede  that  she 
could  be  wrong. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  Horace,"  she  replied  in  her  firm,  clear 
voice  ;  and  in  the  hope  to  apply  balm  to  his  wounded  feel- 
ings she  added  :  "  I  have  always  maintained  that  you  have 
just  the  style  of  ugliness  that  can  be  made  to  look  like  dis- 
tinction." 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  smiling  ironically ;  "don't exert  your- 
self further.  You  might  make  me  conceited." 

The  long  expected  event  which  had  kept  Horace  in  the 
city  during  the  greater  part  of  the  winter,  finally  took  place 
about  the  beginning  of  March.  A  little  black-eyed  daugh- 
ter was  born  to  him.  He  had  expected  to  experience  some 
little  emotion  on  such  an  occasion  ;  but  he  was  disappointed. 
The  only  sensation  of  which  he  was  conscious  was  a  slight 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  341 

embarrassment  at  his  utter  superfluity.  It  appeared  to  be 
in  order  to  say  something  appropriate  to  Kate  ;  but  she 
was  evidently  expecting  nothing,  and  perhaps  he  would, 
in  the  end,  only  be  making  a  jack  of  himself.  So  he  be- 
took himself  away  with  a  sense  of  awkwardness  and 
oppression.  He  found  it  hard  to  forgive  his  daughter 
her  sex.  He  felt  as  if  she  had  purposely  deceived  him. 
Both  Kate  and  he  had  been  confident  that  they  were  to 
have  a  boy.  However,  even  a  girl  might  be  made  an  ex- 
cuse for  a  little  paternal  vanity ;  and  feeling  a  strong  need 
of  confiding  in  someone,  Horace  walked  up  the  Avenue 
to  the  Union  League  Club,  of  which  he  was  a  member. 
There  he  sat  for  an  hour  pretending  to  read  a  newspaper. 
But  he  saw  no  opportunity  such  as  he  desired  for  a  jocose 
assertion  of  his  new  dignity.  At  last  the  thought  of  Aleck 
came  to  him  like  an  inspiration  ;  he  hired  a  cab  and  drove 
into  the  unfashionable  neighborhood  on  Twenty-third 
Street  between  Seventh  and  Eighth  Avenues  where  his 
brother's  migratory  household  was  then  sojourning.  It 
was  not  the  first  time,  by  any  means,  that  he  sought  Aleck 
during  this  dreary,  interminable  winter.  He  had  been  quite 
a  frequent  visitor  in  the  huge  human  hive  where  men 
swarmed  like  bees  and  crawled  through  long  labyrinthine 
passages  to  their  appropriate  cells.  After  many  rebuffs  he 
had  succeeded  in  establishing  himself  tolerably  in  the  favor 
of  his  nephew  Obed,  upon  whom  (much  to  his  mother's 
annoyance)  he  lavished  presents.  But  Horace  did  not 
have  the  knack  of  pleasing  children,  and  to  romp  with 
them  as  Aleck  did,  without  the  least  loss  of  dignity,  would 
have  been  impossible  to  him.  It  was  almost  pathetic  to 
see  how  he  sued  for  the  good-will  of  his  two  pretty 
nephews  ;  though  Gertrude  always  maintained  that  he  did 
not  care  a  rap  about  them. 

The  fact  was,  Horace  felt  a  little  awkward  in  his  rela- 
tions with  his  brother,  because  he  had  never  been  able  to 
induce  his  wife  to  renew  her  acquaintance  with  Gertrude. 
He  had  used  the  excuse  which  the  expectation  of  an  addi- 
tion to  the  family  had  furnished  as  long  as  it  was  available  ; 
and  it  had  cost  Gertrude  the  greatest  exertion  to  listen  to 
the  repetition  of  this  plea  with  a  sober  face.  There  were 
a  hundred  spiteful  remarks  which  she  would  have  liked  to 
make,  and  which  she  would  have  made,  if  Aleck's  eyes  had 
not  restrained  her.  She  knew  that  Kate  looked  down 
upon  her,  for  a  variety  of  reasons ;  and  it  seemed  hard  that 
she  should  be  denied  the  satisfaction  of  letting  her  know 


342  THE  MAMMON 

how  sublimely  indifferent  she  was  to  her  attentions,  and 
how  entirely  superior  she  felt  herself  in  all  respects. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  May,  when  the  baby  was 
more  than  two  months  old,  that  Horace  again  broached  the 
perilous  topic  to  Kate  at  the  luncheon-table.  They  were 
to  move  to  Torryville,  where  their  new  house  was  await- 
ing them,  in  two  weeks  ;  and  there  could  be  no  reason,  as 
far  as  he  could  see,  for  refusing  to  be  polite,  when  polite- 
ness cost  so  little.  If  it  were  a  question  of  an  intimacy 
which  might  in  the  end  prove  burdensome,  he  would  be 
the  last  to  urge  it  upon  her.  But  Gertrude  was  a  proud 
and  sensitive  woman,  against  whom  there  would  be  no  need 
of  being  on  one's  guard.  And  moreover,  they  were  to  live 
in  different  cities,  and  their  lives  would  of  necessity  be  far 
apart. 

Kate  sat  listening  to  this  earnest  argument  with  her 
usual  placid  expression.  Only  now  and  then  a  fine  scorn, 
or  the  merest  shadowy  suggestion  of  it,  would  flit  across 
her  countenance. 

"  It  is  useless  to  discuss  such  a  matter  with  you,  Horace," 
she  said,  taking  a  sip  of  tea  ;  "for  you  don't  know  the  first 
thing  about  social  usages,  and  the  obligations  you  incur 
by  a  call." 

"  But  do  tell  me,"  he  interposed,  eagerly,  "what  have 
you  against  Gertrude  ?  You  surely  don't  need  to  like 
everybody  you  call  upon." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  she  answered,  emphatically,  "  or  I 
should  have  to  drop  nine-tenths  of  my  visiting  list." 

"  That's  what  I  supposed.  What,  then,  is  the  matter  with 
Gertrude  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  her.  She  is  very 
nice,  I  don't  doubt,  and  all  that.  But  if  you  don't  mind 
my  saying  it,  she  is  scarcely,  in  the  strictest  sense,  good 
form,  not  quite  comme  il  faut." 

"  Not  comme  il  faut !  Well,  I  must  say,  I  don't  see  it. 
Seems  to  me  she  looks  as  well  as  anybody,  and  a  good  deal 
better  than  most  of  the  people  who  come  here.  Now,  do 
tell  me,  why  isn't  she  comme  il  faut  ?  " 

"  Not  comme  il  fau,  if  you  please,  but  comme  il  fauo"  Kate 
corrected,  blandly  ;  she  was  proud  of  her  Parisian  accent, 
and  rarely  missed  an  opportunity  to  lord  it  over  him, 
when  he  used  a  French  phrase. 

"Well,  comme  il  fauo,  then,"  he  cried,  exaggerating  his 
accent.  "But  you  didn't  answer  my  question." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  answer  it  to  your  satisfaction. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  343 

It  would  be  like  trying  to  explain  the  colors  to  a  blind 
man." 

"  You  mean  to  say  that  I  am  not  comme  il  faut  myself  ?" 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  say  that  to  you  ;  but  to  cut  short  the 
discussion,  I'll  call  upon  your  sister-in-law,  as  you  wish." 

"  Thanks  !  And  if  you'll  permit  me  to  make  a  further 
suggestion — refrain  as  far  as  you  can  from  patronizing 
her.  She  is  very  sensitive." 

"  Anything  else  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing  else." 

At  half-past  three  o'clock  Kate  ordered  her  carriage,  and 
with  a  great  rattle  of  wheels,  clicking  of  metal,  and  hoof- 
beats  of  prancing  steeds,  invaded  the  plebeian  neighbor- 
hood west  of  Seventh  Avenue.  One  of  the  liveried  foot- 
men jumped  off  the  box  and  with  a  profound  bow  opened 
the  carriage  door. 

"  Tillbury,"  she  said,  "tell  James  to  drive  back  into  Fifth 
Avenue  and  stop  nowhere.  Be  back  here  promptly  in 
fifteen  minutes." 

The  footman  made  another  solemn  bow,  and  having 
rung  the  bell  of  the  apartment  house,  remounted  his 
box.  He  made  a  grimace  to  his  colleague  James,  as  he  re- 
peated his  orders.  Madame  evidently  had  relatives  of 
humble  degree,  and  did  not  wish  her  conspicuous  carriage 
to  be  seen  waiting  outside  an  apartment  house  in  such  a 
shabby  quarter. 

The  visit  passed  off  without  any  incident.  Kate,  with 
her  quiet  lynx  eyes,  took  in  every  minutest  detail  of  furni- 
ture and  upholstery,  and  reflected  that  it  was  exactly  what 
she  would  have  expected.  She  made  the  usual  benevolent 
inquiries  regarding  husband  and  children,  remarked  that 
the  weather  had  been  extraordinary,  patted  Obed's  cheek 
with  her  gloved  hand  and  hoped  that  Mrs.  Larkin  found 
time  to  cultivate  her  artistic  talent,  which  she  had  heard 
was  quite  promising.  It  was  all  de  haut  enbas,  and  Ger- 
trude was  keenly  conscious  of  the  condescension  which 
every  word  implied.  She  bristled  with  suppressed  ani- 
mosity, and  would  have  given  her  visitor  a  hint  of  her 
sentiments,  if  she  had  not  been  afraid  of  affording  her 
pleasure  by  making  a  goose  of  herself.  It  was  obviously 
her  best  policy  to  be  haughty  in  return,  freezingly  polite, 
and  for  each  pat  on  the  shoulder  give  another  back.  Be- 
ing, however,  less  practised  in  this  game  than  her  expert 
sister-in-law,  Gertrude  felt  repeatedly  that  she  was  being 
worsted,  and  an  inner  tremor  which  she  could  not  master 


344  THE  MAMMON 

began  to  show  itself  in  her  manner.  Kate,  too,  saw  it,  and 
having  no  desire  to  humiliate  her,  rose  to  take  her  leave. 
She  was  every  inch  the grande  dame,  and  could  afford  to  be 
magnanimous.  There  was  no  petty  meanness  in  her,  only 
a  superb  self-confidence  and  dignity.  If  Gertrude  had 
consented  to  humble  herself  from  the  beginning,  she  would 
have  liked  her  and  taken  her  under  her  protecting  wing. 
Now  they  parted  with  artificial  smiles,  and  pressures  of 
hands,  and  polite  assurances  of  the  pleasure  each  had 
taken  in  seeing  the  other,  and  a  fixed  resolution  never  to 
run  the  risk  of  doing  it  again.  While  the  elevator  bore  the 
victorious  Kate  down  to  the  level  of  the  street,  where  her 
carriage  drove  up  to  the  door  at  the  very  instant  she 
made  her  appearance,  the  vanquished  Gertrude  sat  hug- 
ging her  four-year-old  son,  Obed,  and  shedding  some  per- 
fectly irrational  tears  upon  his  blond  head. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  child,"  she  whispered,  "  what  would  be- 
come of  your  poor  mamma  if  she  didn't  have  you  ?  " 

"  But  you  have  Papa  and  Ralph,  too,  mamma,"  objected 
the  literal  Obed. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  know  it,"  she  sighed,  and  hugged  him 
more  tightly. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  345 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

NEMESIS. 

The  removal  to  Torryville  was  being  delayed  by  a 
hundred  unforeseen  incidents.  The  conviction  was  be- 
ginning to  grow  upon  Horace  that  Kate  was  purposely 
delaying  it,  and  that  she  had  no  intention  of  settling  per- 
manently in  the  place  toward  which  his  inclinations  and 
interests  were  drawing  him.  He  was  sitting  in  his  father- 
in-law's  gorgeous  library  (filled  with  handsomely  bound 
books  which  no  one  ever  read)  ruminating  bitterly  upon 
the  fate  which  was  in  store  for  him,  if  she  should  absolute- 
ly refuse  to  accompany  him  to  Torryville,  as  she  had  once 
before  refused  to  share  his  life  in  Albany.  If  she  said  no, 
he  knew  it  meant  no,  emphatically  and  inexorably.  The 
arrogant  speech  he  had  once  made  to  Aleck,  about  mak- 
ing other  lives  tributary  to  his  own,  was  slowly  emerging, 
phrase  by  phrase,  from  the  blue  cigar  smoke  ;  and  he 
smiled  sardonically  to  himself  at  the  thought  of  his  crude 
delusion.  Kate  was  a  charming  tributary,  forsooth  !  She 
insisted  not  only  upon  directing  the  course  of  her  own 
life,  but  of  his,  to  boot.  Unless  they  agreed  to  separate, 
they  had  no  choice  but  to  patch  up  some  sort  of  modus 
vivendi;  to  keep  on  working  at  cross-purposes,  as  they  had 
hitherto  been  doing,  was  suicidal.  Their  lives  had  got  to 
run  together  and  must  take  the  course  which  the  stronger 
force  in  the  united  current  determined.  That  was  nat- 
ure's law,  against  which  there  was  no  use  demurring. 
He  had  frequently  announced  this  fact  with  much  satis- 
faction to  himself  and  to  the  discomforture  of  his  hypo- 
thetical antagonist.  But  now — and  here  was  the  rub — a 
horrible  misgiving  clutched  like  a  chilly  hand  at  his  heart. 
Was  he  the  stronger  force,  or  was  Kate  ? 

Horace  flung  his  cigar  into  a  big  Satsuma  vase  which 
stood  before  the  empty  fireplace,  and  lighted  another. 
He  let  his  eyes  wander  over  the  richly  carved  oaken  ceil- 
ing ;  took  up  a  newspaper  which  lay  on  the  floor  and  at- 


346  THE  MAMMON 

tempted  to  read.  But  everything  seemed  stale  and  un- 
profitable. If  he  was  confronted  with  the  alternative  of 
spending  his  life  as  a  satellite  of  his  wife's  family  or  living 
his  own  life  away  from  her,  what  should  he  do  ?  It  was 
a  serious  question  which  had  to  be  seriously  weighed. 
Why  couldn't  Kate  be  made  to  see  that  it  was  for  her  ad- 
vantage to  allow  him  to  work  out  his  own  destiny  and 
pursue  his  own  ambitions.  It  was  indeed  hard  to  com- 
prehend how  such  an  admirable  woman  as  Kate  on  all 
hands  was  conceded  to  be,  could  be  so  hard  to  live  with. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  these  despondent  meditations 
when  the  butler  entered  and  handed  him  a  neatly  en- 
graved card,  bearing  the  name,  Rev.  Arthur  Robbins.  Now 
that  was  just  lacking  to  make  his  cup  of  bitterness  over- 
flow !  What  in  the  mischief  could  the  old  gentleman  be 
wanting  of  him,  unless  he  meant  to  take  him  to  task  for 
his  past  delinquencies. 

"  You  had  better  take  this  card  upstairs,"  he  said  to  the 
butler  ;  "  it  is  Mr.  Van  Schaak  the  gentleman  wishes  to 
see." 

"  He  asked  very  particularly  for  you,  sir.  He  was  very 
particular  indeed,  sir,  that  it  was  you  he  wanted  to  see, 
sir." 

"  All  right.     Show  him  in." 

He  repented  of  the  words  the  moment  he  had  uttered 
them  ;  but  of  course,  if  Mr.  Robbins  had  some  particular 
errand  for  him,  dodging  would  be  useless.  He  arose,  as 
the  clergyman  entered,  and  shook  his  hand  with  a  rather 
stiff  and  colorless  manner. 

"I  hope  you  are  well,  sir,"  he  said,  motioning  him  to  a 
seat  ;  u  Mrs.  Larkin  will  be  very  happy  to  see  you.  I'll 
send  word  to  her  and  let  her  know  you  are  here." 

He  was  about  to  press  the  button  of  the  electric  bell 
when  Mr.  Robbins,  with  some  trepidation,  seized  him  by 
the  arm. 

"  No,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  call  her,"  he  said,  "  the  fact  is, 
— I'd — I'd  rather  not  see  her." 

There  was  a  note  of  distress  in  his  voice  which  aroused 
a  sympathetic  echo  in  his  listener.  Even  the  least  emo- 
tional of  us  has  moods  when  he  is  impressionable.  Horace 
noted  with  benevolent  interest  how  white  Mr.  Robbins 
had  grown,  how  grave  and  wrinkled.  He  looked  like  one 
bowed  down  with  grief.  Of  the  fine  intellectual  smile 
which  formerly  lighted  up  his  features  not  a  suggestion 
was  left.  There  was  something  strained  and  anxious  in 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  347 

the  lines  about  his  mouth,  and  his  glance  was  full  of 
trouble.  But  his  attire  was  still  scrupulously  neat,  his 
white  necktie  immaculate,  and  his  small,  well-shaped 
feet  shod  with  obtrusive  perfection.  But  what  impressed 
his  interlocutor  most  was  a  certain  embarrassed  defer- 
ence in  his  manner,  so  different  from  his  former  cheerful 
dignity. 

They  sat  and  fenced  for  awhile  with  the  usual  common- 
places about  the  weather  and  polite  inquiries  concerning 
friends  and  relatives.  Horace  took  good  care,  however, 
not  to  ask  concerning  the  one  who  was  uppermost  in  the 
minds  of  both,  and  Mr.  Robbins  was  obliged  to  introduce 
her  unsolicited. 

"  Yes,  the  weather  has  been  very  trying  this  spring, 
even  in  Florida,"  he  was  saying  ;  then,  after  having 
coughed  apologetically  into  his  handkerchief,  he  con- 
tinued:  "You  know,  we  have  been  obliged  to  spend  the 
winter  in  the  South  on  account  of  my  daughter  Bella's 
health." 

"  I  trust  her  health  is  improving,"  Horace  observed, 
awkwardly. 

"  No,  she  is  dying,"  said  Mr.  Robbins,  rising  abruptly 
and  walking  to  the  window. 

Horace  tried  to  intimate  that  he  was  sorry  ;  but  the 
words  stuck  in  his  throat.  A  dim  sense  of  reproach  stole 
over  him  ;  and  a  vague  discomfort  oppressed  him.  He 
could  not  tell  exactly  whether  it  was  his  conscience  that 
made  him  uncomfortable,  or  the  mere  awkwardness  of  the 
situation.  It  was  quite  plain  to  him  that  he  had  behaved 
villainously  ;  but  he  was  one  of  those  characters  to  whom 
self-approval  is  not  absolutely  indispensable  to  comfort. 
He  had  acted  for  his  own  interest  ;  but  an  awful  .query 
loomed  up  in  the  very  wake  of  this  reflection  and  a  dull 
pang  nestled  in  his  heart.  Had  he  acted  for  his  own 
interest  ?  Had  he  not  rather,  in  his  ruthless  disregard  of 
all  interests  but  his  own,  deceived  and  outwitted  himself  ? 
What  would  his  life  have  been,  if  he  had  kept  faith  with 
Bella  ?  He  saw  it  in  a  flash  ;  and  her  pale,  pathetic  face 
with  its  anxious  smile,  so  full  of  eager,  fervent  adoration, 
rose  out  of  his  memory.  Poor  child  !  She  had  loved  him 
indeed.  And  that  love  of  hers,  which  he  had  so  heartlessly 
spurned — he  saw  clearly  in  this  moment  how  beautiful, 
how  precious  it  was. 

When  Mr.  Robbins  had  mastered  his  emotion,  he 
turned  again  toward  the  man  who  in  wrecking  his  daugh- 


348  THE  MAMMON 

.  ter's  life  had  wrecked  his  own  ;  and  he  did  not  curse  him, 
or  threaten  him  with  disaster  and  vengeance  for  the  injury 
he  had  done  ;  but  he  looked  at  him  with  uneasy  embarrass- 
ment, gave  a  little  cough  and  said  : 

"  I  came  to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  Mr.  Larkin  ;  Bella  wants 
to  see  you." 

His  voice  broke  pitifully  and  he  turned  again  to  the 
window.  Horace  got  up  and  began  to  pace  the  floor. 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  appeared  so  black  to  himself  ;  so 
mean  and  contemptible.  There  was  something  within 
him,  like  a  vast  weight  of  woe,  which  pressed  upward  and 
threatened  to  overwhelm  him. 

"  I  must  have  your  answer  now,"  said  his  visitor,  husk- 
ily ;  "  we  have  not  much  time  to  lose." 

Horace,  without  a  word,  went  out  into  the  hall  and 
seized  his  hat  ;  Mr.  Robbins  followed  him.  They  walked 
rapidly  across  the  square,  down  Twenty-first  Street  to 
Fourth  Avenue  and  took  an  upto.wn  horse-car.  In  the 
neighborhood  of  Madison  Avenue  and  Fifty-eighth  Street 
they  entered  a  quiet  family  hotel  and  were  carried  by  the 
elevator  to  the  third  or  fourth  floor.  Through  a  long  car- 
peted corridor,  at  the  end  of  which  sat  a  sleeping  chamber- 
maid, they  reached  a  door,  marked  149,  which  the  clergy- 
man noiselessly  opened.  The  air  within  was  pungent  with 
the  odor  of  medicine.  The  shades  were  drawn  before  the 
windows  ;  but  the  bright  May  sunshine  filtered  through, 
revealing  the  usual  bare  hotel  room  with  a  black  walnut 
table,  a  rep-covered  sofa,  and  half  a  dozen  chairs.  Pres- 
ently a  young  girl  with  black  squirrel-like  eyes  and  a 
sharply  receding  chin  entered,  and  Horace  recognized  one 
of  the  Rodents  named  Nettie.  She  gave  him  a  nod  over 
her  shoulder,  in  which  he  thought  he  detected  a  restrained 
animosity.  She  held  a  whispered  conversation  with  her 
father  ;  and  the  latter  excused  himself  and  walked  on  tip- 
toe into  the  adjoining  room.  Nettie  remained  standing  at 
the  door  and  glowered  at  the  visitor. 

"  I  hope  you  feel  good  now,"  she  said,  bluntly. 

Horace  returned  her  glance,  but  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  was  at  a  loss  for  an  answer.  How  could  he  blame 
her  for  hating  him  ?  What  a  monster  of  iniquity  lie  must 
seem  to  her  !  For  two  or  three  minutes  this  distressing 
tete-a-tete  lasted.  But  nothing  further  was  said.  Then 
Mr.  Robbins  opened  the  door  and  beckoned  to  Horace, 
who  arose  and  walked  heavily  across  the  floor.  He  was 
conscious  of  nothing  except  a  olull  heart-ache,  and  a  help- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  349 

less  regret  that  he  had  come.  What  could  this  meeting  avail 
him  or  her,  now  that  all"  was  irrevocably  past,  and  the 
tears  were  shed  and  the  anguish  suffered  ?  He  averted 
his  face,  as  he  crossed  the  threshold,  and  waited  a  moment 
before  summoning  courage  to  look.  The  door  was  softly 
closed  behind  him  ;  a  slight  tremor  pierced  his  stolidity. 
As  his  eyes  accustomed  themselves  to  the  dimness,  his  cour- 
age again  ebbed  away.  He  knew  there  was  a  shock  in  store 
for  him,  and  a  painful  one.  But  it  was  too  late  to  retreat 
now.  With  a  dogged  resolution  he  turned  about  and 
approached  the  bed.  He  wanted  it  over,  and  the  sooner 
the  better.  He  had  braced  himself  to  endure  anything,  but 
yet  started  back  at  the  sight  which  met  his  eyes.  And  it 
was  a  pitiful,  a  heart-rending  sight.  Propped  up  in  pillows, 
with  an  unnaturally  flushed  face,  the  bony  structure  of 
which  was  cruelly  emphasized,  lay  the  poor  little  girl  who 
had  flung  herself  in  his  path  to  be  trampled  down  by  his  "' 
ruthless  feet.  And  yet  what  a  touching  thing  was  this  love 
of  hers  which  she  had  given  him,  almost  unasked,  and 
which  he  had  held  in  such  light  esteem  !  He  had  known 
her  heart-secret,  long  before  she  thought  it  revealed  ;  and 
he  had  slighted  and  scorned  it,  and  yet  in  a  momentary  mood 
of  magnanimity  given  it  his  supercilious  approval.  How 
bitterly  he  repented  of  this  magnanimity  now  ;  for  it  was 
that  and  not  his  scorn  which  had  killed  her. 

Horace  stood  long  before  the  bed,  gazing  at  the  face, 
relieved  by  its  high  color  against  the  pillow.  The  wheezy, 
labored  breathing  of  the  invalid  filled  the  silence.  It  wrung 
his  heart  with  pity  to  see  how  fragile  she  looked,  how 
wasted  by  disease  and  suffering.  Her  cheek-bones  were 
cruelly  prominent ;  and  even  the  bones  in  her  temples  and 
lower  jaw  were  clearly  outlined  under  the  tense  skin. 
Her  hands,  which  lay  listlessly  on  the  coverlid,  showed  their 
anatomy  with  horrible  suggestiveness.  Only  her  wavy 
blond  hair  was  unchanged,  and  by  contrast  with  her  emac- 
iated face  looked  too  heavy  for  the  frame  to  which  it 
was  attached — as  if  it  had  drained  it  of  its  last  drop  of 
vitality.  He  became  aware,  after  a  while,  that  she  was 
conscious  of  his  presence,  and  was  endeavoring  to  speak 
to  him.  But  again  and  again  her  voice  failed  her.  Her 
eyelids  seemed  heavy,  and  she  raised  them  with  a  feeble 
effort,  but  presently  they  closed  again.  He  fell  upon  his 
knees  at  the  side  of  the  bed  ;  not  from  emotion,  but  be- 
cause he  felt  her  desire  to  speak,  and  was  anxious  to  spare 
her  needless  exertion, 


350  THE  MAMMON 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,"  were  the  first  words  he  distin- 
guished ;  and  then  after  a  long  pause  :  "  Horace." 

He  stooped  down  over  her  and  listened  ;  but  for  a  long 
while  no  sound  came  ;  by  the  moving  of  her  fingers,  he 
guessed  that  she  wished  him  to  take  her  hand,  and  saw  by 
the  relaxation  of  the  tensity  of  her  expression,  that  he  had 
guessed  aright. 

"I  wanted — to  see  you,"  she  whispered,  "because — be- 
cause— I  didn't  want  you  to  feel  bad — as  I — knew — you 
would — Horace — when  I  am  dead." 

He  felt  as  if  his  heart  would  break.  She  had  never 
known  how  little  he  had  cared  for  her;  she  had  imagined 
to  this  day  that  he  had  loved  her ;  she  had  held  him  guilt- 
less and  given  her  father  the  blame  for  having  driven  him 
away.  In  despair,  of  course,  and  not  from  cold-blooded 
calculation,  had  he  married  Kate ;  and  his  life  had  been, 
in  a  measure,  blighted  as  well  as  hers.  What  a  pathetic 
romance,  forsooth ;  and  yet  he  was  glad  that  she  had 
cherished  it,  glad  that  her  last  days  had  not  been  embit- 
tered with  the  anguish  of  a  spurned  affection.  A  reassur- 
ing pressure  of  her  hand  was  all  the  answer  he  could  give 
her;  and  a  faint  shadow  of  joy  flitted  across  her  emaci- 
ated features.  In  her  grateful  glance  there  was  a  fond 
proprietorship,  a  touching  devotion. 

"  You  know,"  she  resumed,  after  another  pause,  "  I  was 
never  quite — well.  I  was — sick — when  I  became  engaged 
to  you.  But — but — I  couldn't  tell  you — it  was  wrong,  I 
know — but  I  couldn't.  You  remember  what  you  said  to 
me — don't  you  ?" 

"No.     I  don't  remember,"  he  murmured. 

The  strained,  anxious  smile  which  he  knew  so  well,  or  a 
mere  ghost  of  it,  hovered  about  her  lips,  and  a  sudden 
moisture  clouded  his  eyes,  and  compelled  him  to  turn 
away,  lest  he  should  distress  her  by  weeping.  But  she 
perceived  the  change  in  his  expression  before  he  was  aware 
of  it  himself. 

"  Horace,"  she  repeated,  "  I  am — so  glad  you  came." 

"  But  what  was  it  I  said  to  you  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  voice 
which  sounded  strange  in  his  own  ears. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  with  brightening  eyes,  "  you 
remember — you  said  that — when  you  married — you'd  want 
first  health — then  wealth — and  then — a  good  temper.  I 
had  not  health — but  I  didn't  dare — tell  you — it  was  wrong 
— I  know  it — but — but — now — I  have  told  you — so  you 
needn't — feel  bad  for  me." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  3$  I 

She  spoke  with  painful  breaks  and  had  much  difficulty 
in  articulating.  Only  by  a  pathetic  effort  did  she  succeed 
in  making  the  last  words  intelligible.  Her  eyes  closed 
again,  and  she  sank  into  a  heavy  stupor.  For  a  long  while 
he  lay  on  his  knees,  holding  her  small  hot  hands,  and  listen- 
ing to  her  labored  breathing.  His  thoughts  ranged  through 
the  past,  and  all  the  scenes  of  his  life,  from  his  boyhood 
and  early  youth,  passed  in  panoramic  procession  before 
his  vision.  And  the  more  he  thought,  the  keener  grew 
the  pang  of  regret  for  that  which  was  done  and  that  which 
was  left  undone.  His  soul  was  stirred  in  its  depths ;  and 
dormant  emotions  rose  in  tumult  and  wrestled  with  Fate, 
the  inevitable,  the  inexorable.  He  had  never  dreamed 
that  he  had  in  him  such  capacity  for  suffering. 


352  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

MUCH   AT    STAKE. 

Horace  walked  about  for  some  days  as  in  a  dream.  He 
seemed  to  have  run  his  head  into  a  noose,  and  the  more 
he  tugged  at  it  the  more  the  rope  cut  him.  At  the  break- 
fast table  Mr.  Van  Schaak  read  the  notice  of  Bella's  death 
in  the  morning  papers;  and  his  son-in-law  heard  it  with  a 
listless  stony  face.  A  heavy  numbness  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  him ;  and  it  seemed  to  matter  very  little  whatever 
happened  to  him  or  to  anyone  else.  Kate  ordered  the 
carnage  and  called  at  the  hotel  with  her  mother  ;  but  he 
refused  to  accompany  her.  The  letter  of  condolence  which 
he  attempted  to  write  to  Mr.  Robbins  he  was  unable  to 
finish.  Every  phrase  in  it  struck  him  as  the  crudest  mock- 
ery. It  was  like  stabbing  a  man  and  then  begging  his 
pardon.  During  the  afternoon  he  wandered  about  the 
city;  and  at  last  dropped  down  upon  a  bench  in  a  public 
square.  There  he  sat  trying  to  unravel  the  tangled  skein 
of  his  life.  His  strong  vitality  reasserted  itself ;  and  he 
saw  the  futility  of  his  sorrow ;  the  uselessness  of  regret 
which  paralyzed  action,  but  could  not  undo  the  wrong. 
In  the  evening  he  had  recovered  his  wonted  composure; 
and  had  fully  determined  what  to  do.  If  Kate  refused  to 
accompany  him  to  Torryville,  he  would  go  there  without 
her.  He  would  offer  her  a  separation,  or  a  divorce,  if  she 
liked,  on  her  own  terms. 

Kate,  who  was  a  connoisseur  of  human  nature,  must  have 
read  in  the  tense  lines  of  his  face  the  resolution  which,  at 
the  dinner-table,  he  endeavored  to  mask  with  an  unwonted 
show  of  amiability.  For  when  he  arose  from  the  table,  she 
anticipated  him  with  a  request  for  a  confidential  interview. 

"You  have  something  on  your  mind,  Horace,"  she  said, 
when  they  had  retired  to  the  privacy  of  the  library ;  "  is 
there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Anything  you  can  do  for  me  ! "  he  cried  with  a  mock- 
ing laugh  ;  "well  I  like  that." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  she  retorted  with  exasperating 
composure ;  "  but  please  tell  me  why  you  find  it  ludicrous  ? " 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  353 

"  It  is  useless  to  talk  with  you,  Kate,"  he  broke  out,  vehe- 
mently "  you  regard  me  as  a  chessman  which  you  can  move 
about  on  the  board  at  your  pleasure,  and  which  is  there 
merely  to  enable  you  to  win  your  game.  But  I  mean  to  give 
you  notice  to-night  that  I  intend  to  play  a  little  game  of 
my  own,  no  matter  whether  it  coincides  with  yours  or  not." 

"  Pas  de  zUe,  my  dear,  pas  de  zele"  she  warned,  in  her 
gentlest  society  accents,  "  we  can  talk  to  better  advantage 
if  we  do  not  get  angry.  As  I  understand  it,  you  are  dis- 
satisfied with  me.  Please,  tell  me  what  is  your  grievance." 

Ah,  she  was  marvellous,  that  Kate.  She  was  simply  im- 
mense !  Health,  wealth,  and  a  good  temper  !  She  had  all 
three  in  superlative  perfection.  That  was  the  thought  that 
flashed  through  his  head,  and  instantly  soothed  the  com- 
motion that  was  raging  there.  Kate  had  seen  in  an  in- 
stant that  he  was  in  a  mood  which  made  quarrelling  dan- 
gerous, and  she  refused  to  quarrel.  So  clear  a  head,  such 
unerring  judgment — how  could  he  help  admiring  it  ? 

"  If  I  have  not  misunderstood  your  tactics,"  he  said, 
forcing  himself  to  be  calm,  "you  intend  to  spring  a  trap 
upon  me.  You  do  not  intend  to  go  to  Torryviile." 

"  What  I  wish  is  one  thing ;  what  I  intend  is  quite  another. 
May  I  ask  you  why  you  are  so  anxious  to  return  to  that 
stupid  village  ?" 

"  Because  my  whole  career  is  bound  up  with  my  resi- 
dence there.  First,  I  want  to  go  to  Congress." 

"  Why  couldn't  you  go  to  Congress  from  this  city  ?  I 
understand  from  father  that  he  is  quite  willing,  for  my 
sake,  to  expend  the  money  necessary  to  procure  you  a 
nomination." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  him  ;  but  I  must  decline.  I  wish 
to  owe  my  preferment  in  public  life  to  my  own  talents,  not 
to  your  father's  money." 

"Ah,  I  see.  But,  apart  from  that,  why  would  you  decline 
to  go  to  Congress  from  this  city  ?  " 

"  First,  because  I  should  have  to  declare  that  I  am  a 
resident,  which  I  am  not.  Secondly  a  Republican  nomi- 
nation, if  it  is  for  sale,  is  not  worth  buying." 

"  But  suppose  you  were  a  Democrat." 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear,  but  now  you  are  supposing  a  little 
too  much  for  my  patience.  What  you  mean  to  say  is,  sup- 
pose I  were  a  scalawag — 

"  Not  at  all  ;  but  I  understand  your  position.  Now, 
may  I  ask,  why  you  have  set  your  heart  on  going  to  Con- 
gress?" 

23 


354  THE  MAMMON 

"  Because,"  he  ejaculated,  raising  his  voice  again,  with  an 
irrepressible  irritation,  "  it  is  my  life  !  Because  my  incli- 
nation and  my  talents  fit  me  for  a  public  career.  And 
moreover,  how  am  I  ever  to  fulfil  your  dream  of  going  as 
'  diplomat  to  a  foreign  court,'  if  I  do  not  first  distinguish 
myself  in  politics  ?  They  do  not  pick  diplomats  out  of  the 
gutter." 

He  knew  this  argument  was  insincere.  He  had  no  in- 
tention in  the  world  to  accommodate  himself  to  her  plans  ; 
but  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war.  If  he  gained  his  point,  dis- 
cussion would  be  in  order  afterward. 

"Now,  please, /0j  de  zele"  she  begged,  raising  her  white 
hands  again,  vvarningly  ;  while  her  intelligent  eyes  scanned 
his  face  with  earnest  scrutiny.  For  two  or  three  minutes 
she  sat  thus  ;  and  the  calm  logical  thoughts  seemed  to 
move  almost  visibly  behind  her  clear  forehead. 

"You  have  convinced  me,"  she  said,  at  last,  rising  with 
fine  dignity  ;  "  I  am  ready  to  move  to  Torryville,  whenever 
you  say." 

"  Then  I  say  to-morrow." 

"  Very  well  ;  but  I  should  prefer  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row." 

"  As  you  please  ;  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

As  in  all  engagements  of  this  kind  Horace,  though  ap- 
parently victorious,  felt  more  than  half  defeated.  He  took 
no  satisfaction  whatever  in  his  triumph,  for  he  knew  that 
in  generalship  he  was  no  match  for  Kate.  The  ruse  by 
which  he  had  brought  her  to  terms  might  prove  a  seed  of 
dragon  teeth  from  which  might  spring  no  end  of  unpleasant 
consequences.  She  might,  any  day,  have  a  disagreeable 
surprise  in  store  for  him.  His  mood  was  therefore  any- 
thing but  hilarious  when,  on  the  appointed  morning,  he 
drove  up  to  the  Grand  Central  Depot,  with  a  tiger  and  a 
coachman  on  the  box,  sitting  upon  their  folded  coats,  and 
all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  which  prosperous  re- 
publicanism is  capable.  Kate,  on  the  other  hand,  was  as 
serene  as  the  lovely  June  weather,  and  gazed  into  the  sun- 
lit space  with  that  superb  indifference  which  no  mere 
plebeian  can  hope  to  attain.  A  Swiss  nurse,  dressed  in 
Alsatian  peasant  costume,  sat  on  the  seat  opposite,  holding 
a  bundle  of  precious  laces  and  ribbons,  containing  among 
other  things,  a  baby.  As  they  dismounted  from  the  car- 
riage at  the  entrance  to  the  waiting  rooms  of  the  New  York 
Central  Railroad,  Horace  observed  an  undertaker's  wagon, 
through  the  open  door  of  which  a  long  pine  box  was  visible. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  355 

He  had  just  stepped  out  upon  the  sidewalk  and  was  about 
to  conduct  his  wife  into  the  waiting-room,  when  he  met 
Mr.  Dallas,  of  Torryville,  and  Mr.  Robbins,  both  with  black 
crape  on  their  hats.  Behind  them  came  Graves,  the  tanner, 
leading  Nettie  Robbins,  who  was  enveloped  from  head  to 
foot  in  a  long  crape  veil.  Horace,  with  a  cold  chill  creep- 
ing over  him,  was  about  to  press  on  past  them.  But  Kate 
stopped  to  speak  to  her  uncle  and  to  utter  the  conventional 
phrases  of  sympathy  and  condolence.  He  sought  refuge 
again  in  his  wanted  stolidity  ;  but  when  the  pine  box  was 
lifted  from  the  wagon  by  four  men  and  carried  past  him  to- 
ward the  baggage  office,  it  grew  black  before  his  eyes,  and 
the  pavement  upon  which  he  stood  billowed  under  his  feet. 
An  irrepressible  anguish  quivered  through  every  fibre  of  his 
being  ;  his  brain  was  in  a  whirl  and  he  was  on  the  point  of 
losing  consciousness.  But  with  a  violent  effort  of  will  he 
collected  himself  ;  and  with  set  teeth  and  an  ashy  pale  face 
watched  the  progress  of  the  four  men,  and  Mr.  Dallas's 
lugubrious  alertness  as  he  ran  about  them,  warning  them 
to  be  careful,  and  the  pitiful  vacuity  and  stunned  stare  of 
the  old  clergyman's  face.  Was  he — Horace  Larkin — re- 
sponsible for  this  calamity  ?  Did  he  have  this  sin  on  his 
conscience  ?  He  hoped  to  God  that  he  had  not.  With  de- 
sparing  tenacity  he  clung  to  her  assurance  that  she  had 
always  been  ill,  and  that  the  end  must  have  come  soon, 
whether  he  had  crossed  her  path  or  not.  But  what  was  life 
and  what  was  death,  after  all  ?  What  did  it  matter,  if  the 
one  was  prolonged  or  the  other  hastened  by  a  few  brief 
years.  The  sunshine,  as  it  beat  upon  his  eyes,  seemed  a 
mockery  ;  and  the  world  a  cruel,  unreal  sham. 

It  was  time  at  last  to  board  the  train,  and  Kate,  with  dec- 
orous seriousness,  bade  her  uncle  adieu.  Happily  she  had 
engaged  an  entire  palace  car  for  herself  and  her  retinue  ; 
while  the  mourning  party  was  assigned  to  another.  But 
hour  after  hour,  during  the  long  day,  the  thought  pursued 
Horace  of  the  dreadful  freight  which  the  car  in  front  of 
him  was  carrying.  His  imagination  conjured  up  the  spec- 
tacle with  painful  vividness  and  with  shuddering  details. 
The  old  superstition  of  the  sailors  occurred  to  him  ;  that 
the  ship  that  carries  a  corpse  in  its  hold  will  be  wrecked. 
His  life  would  henceforth  carry  a  corpse  in  its  hold.  Did 
that  argue  disaster  ?  He  entered  his  new  house,  which 
seemed  bound  up  with  his  fortune  and  his  hopes  of  happi- 
ness, and  he  had  not  thought  of  providing  a  closet  for  a 
skeleton.  Well,  life  is  a  curious  affair. 


THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

KATE'S  CAMPAIGN. 

Horace  had  for  years  been  "  laying  his  pipes  "for  the  con- 
gressional campaign  upon  which  he  now  entered.  He  had 
been  practically  sure  of  the  nomination,  since  his  only  pos- 
sible rival,  the  late  representative,  had,  by  the  Larkin  in- 
fluence, been  appointed  minister  to  a  South  American 
republic,  and  after  infinite  trouble  had  been  induced  to 
accept.  It  seemed  now  that  he  had  tolerably  plain  sailing  ; 
as  it  was  scarcely  conceivable  that  any  one  the  Democrats 
could  nominate  would  have  even  a  fighting  chance.  This 
was  generally  conceded  in  Torryville,  when  Horace  and  his 
wife  made  their  triumphal  entry  into  the  town  in  the  be- 
ginning of  June  and  moved  into  their  palatial  mansion  on 
the  western  hill  slope.  There  was  no  disputing  now,  that 
Horace  was  the  first  citizen  of  Torryville.  The  venerable 
Obed  was  completely  outshone,  and,  what  was  more  re- 
markable, accepted  his  eclipse  with  philosophical  serenity. 
He  shook  his  head  occasionally  at  the  extravagance  of 
Horace's  establishment  and  the  fast  pace  at  which  he  was 
going  ;  but  he  still  trusted  him  implicitly,  and  worked  to 
advance  his  interests.  Mrs.  Larkin,  who  was  in  worse 
health  than  ever  and  determined  to  quarrel  with  Kate,  was 
firmly  held  in  check,  in  spite  of  her  lamentations.  She  had 
a  hundred  grievances  against  her  nephew's  wife,  who,  she 
insisted,  treated  her  like  a  pickpocket.  When  the  elder 
lady  (in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  town)  went  to 
spend  the  day  with  Mrs.  Horace  in  her  new  house  and  nat- 
urally expected  to  examine  her  clothes,  and  give  advice 
concerning  servants  and  housekeeping,  she  found  herself 
politely  snubbed.  Kate  was  not  in  the  least  confidential, 
and  though,  after  some  coaxing,  she  consented  to  have  her 
maid  exhibit  her  wardrobe  to  Mrs.  Larkin's  wondering  eyes, 
she  professed  an  ignorance  concerning  the  cost  of  her 
dresses  which  her  visitor  regarded  as  transparent  pretence. 
And  it  was  not  only  Mrs.  Larkin  who  inclined  to  this  opin- 
ion. Mrs.  Dallas,  Mrs.  Graves,  and  the  Professors'  wives, 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  357 

in  fact  all  the  ladies  who  had  any  pretension  to  social 
standing,  found  Mrs.  Horace  stuck-up  and  altogether  dis- 
agreeable. They  had  all  looked  forward  to  her  arrival  with 
the  pleasantest  anticipations  ;  and  each  one  of  them  had 
determined  to  gain  her  confidence,  and  become  her  very 
particular  friend.  It  was  therefore  doubly  bitter  to  have 
their  first  overtures  so  coldly  received. 

The  fact  was,  they  did  not  understand  her,  and  she  did 
not  understand  them.  It  would  never  have  occurred  to 
Kate  that  this  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  said  "you  was,"  arid  whose 
father  had  kept  a  livery  stable,  could  have  the  audacity  to 
aspire  to  become  an  intimate  in  her  house.  And  as  for  the 
rest,  she  was  perfectly  willing  to  be  polite  and  even  friendly 
to  them,  in  her  own  condescending  way,  but  if  they  pre- 
sumed upon  her  courtesy  to  pry  into  her  closets,  give  im- 
pertinent advice,  and  even  converse  with  her  servants,  she 
had  no  choice  but  to  keep  them  at  arms'  length.  The  time- 
honored  country  custom,  to  which  many  ladies  were  ad- 
dicted, to  drop  in  early  in  the  forenoon  and  spend  the  entire 
day  in  gossip  and  espionage,  was  a  special  affliction  to  her. 
After  having  been  entrapped  once  or  twice  into  such  a  posi- 
tion, she  grew  very  wary,  and  denied  herself  to  visitors  who 
showed  any  disposition  to  be  importunate.  She  sent  word 
by  the  servant  that  she  was  ill,  or  that  she  was  not  at  home, 
although  all  the  town  knew  of  her  comings  and  goings. 
For  she  never  went  out  on  foot ;  and  her  equipage,  with  its 
glittering  trappings,  was  too  dazzling  to  pass  anywhere  un- 
noticed. Its  passage  through  the  streets  or  along  the  Lake 
drive  was  an  event  which  was  looked  forward  to  and  dis- 
cussed for  an  hour  when  it  was  past. 

It  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  Horace  was  much 
annoyed  at  his  wife's  unpopularity.  He  saw  plainly 
enough  that  she  was  imperilling  the  chances  of  his  elec- 
tion. .Before  the  summer  was  half  over  he  was  credibly 
informed  that  his  friend  Dallas  was  playing  him  false,  and 
was  nursing  a  promising  little  boom  of  his  own.  It  was  of 
very  little  use  that  he  "  made  himself  solid"  with  butchers 
and  bakers  and  candlestick  makers,  lent  money  on  bad 
mortgages  to  influential  Irishmen,  and  opened  a  free  read- 
ing room  for  the  Firemen's  Association  ;  a  spark  of  ani- 
mosity against  him  was  smouldering  in  the  breasts  of  his 
townsmen,  and  might  become  a  blaze  before  the  meeting 
of  the  nominating  convention.  An  American  country 
town  is  a  crystallization  of  the  Democratic  spirit ;  it  is  as 
free  from  snobbishness  as  any  aggregation  of  men  on  the 


THE  MAMMON* 

face  of  the  globe.  The  candidate's  magnificent  house,  in- 
stead of  making  him  popular,  made  him  suspected  ;  and 
his  superb  carriage  and  flunkeys  aroused  open  hostility. 
His  wife's  attitude  toward  the  ladies  of  the  town  capped 
the  climax  by  raising  him  enemies  in  every  household. 
And  yet,  strange  to  say,  Kate  was  far  from  divining  what 
a  storm  of  displeasure  was  raging  against  her  in  the  bo- 
soms of  the  Torryville  ladies.  She  flattered  herself  that 
she  had  treated  them  very  handsomely,  and  that  they  had 
reason  to  be  grateful  that  she  had  unbent  so  far  in  her  de- 
sire to  make  herself  agreeable  to  them.  When  Horace 
intimated  to  her  that  they  cherished  sentiments  of  an  op- 
posite kind,  she  was  frankly  astonished. 

"You  know,  of  course,"  she  said,  "  they  could  scarcely 
expect  me  to  take  them  to  my  bosom  and  make  friends  of 
them." 

"Yes,  that  was  exactly  what  they  expected,"  her  husband 
replied. 

"  But  surely  you  agree  with  me  that  such  an  expectation 
is  preposterous,"  she  exclaimed,  with  unwonted  animation. 

"No,  I  can't  say  I  do." 

"  Would  you,  perhaps,  have  me  go  around  and  talk  poli- 
tics with  my  butcher,  as  you  do  ;  and  smile  graciously  on 
that  absurd  little  bookseller  Dabney,  who  insists  upon 
shaking  hands  with  me  when  I  enter  his  shop  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  would  hurt  you  to  shake  hands  with 
him.  He  is  a  very  decent  sort  of  fellow." 

"  I  must  say,  Horace,  I  have  often  been  ashamed  of  you, 
when  I  have  seen  you  flattering  trades-people  ;  joking 
with  them,  and  treating  them  as  if  you  regarded  them  as 
your  equals.  But  I  have  consented  to  overlook  it,  be- 
cause I  thought  perhaps  it  was  a  political  necessity.  But 
when  you  demand  that  I,  too,  shall  demean  myself  to  such 
practices  I  think  it  is  time  for  me  to  protest." ' 

"  My  dear,"  he  ejaculated  with  humorous  despair  (for 
he  knew  by  this  time  her  limitations),  "  I  don't  demand 
anything  of  you  ;  but  only  ask  you  not  to  snub  people  any 
more  than  you  have  to." 

"Snub  people,  Horace  !  Why,  I  don't  snub  them  at  all. 
If  there  is  anything  I  pride  myself  on,  it  is  my  tact  in  deal- 
ing with  the  lower  classes.  I  never  have  any  difficulty 
with  my  servants  because  I  know  how  to  keep  them  in 
their  place.  I  am  kind  to  them,  but  I  let  them  know 
where  they  belong." 

"Yes,  I  see,"   he  answered,  ironically,  "you  have  tact  in 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  359 

dealing  with  the  lower  clawsses"  (he  exaggerated  her  broad, 
English  a).  "Well,  my  dear,  you  are  the  American  hu- 
morist, sure  enough.  I  shudder  to  think  what  would  have 
become  of  you  if  you  had  lived  in  the  time  of  the  French 
Revolution.  The  lower  classes  !  It  is  too  good  !" 

He  gave  a  loud,  mirthless  laugh,  thrust  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  and  with  a  desperate  fling  of  his  head  paced 
across  the  floor.  There  was  something  almost  pathetic 
in  her  hallucination,  and  in  her  utter  alienation  from  the 
spirit  of  her  country,  and  her  incapacity  to  comprehend 
its  manifestations.  And  yet,  though  he  almost  detested 
her  exclusive  and  aristocratic  sentiment,  he  had  a  vague 
sense  of  flattery  that  this  high  and  mighty  lady,  who 
looked  down  upon  all  her  kind,  had  deigned  to  honor  him 
with  her  favor  and  confidence.  He  knew  how  easily  this 
favor  was  forfeited  ;  how  a  mal  apropos  remark,  implying 
the  remotest  soitp^on  of  personal  criticism,  or  a  trifling 
gaucherie,  or  unintentional  incivility  would  freeze  her  up 
and  make  her  dumb  for  an  entire  day.  It  was  an  impious 
desire,  but  for  all  that  he  could  not  help  wishing  that  he 
possessed  the  power  to  make  her  one-tenth  as  miserable  as 
she  sometimes  made  him.  It  was  not  a  mere  vindictive 
desire  to  retaliate,  but  rather  an  assertion  of  his  self-re- 
spect and  an  aspiration  for  that  unattainable  goal — marital 
equality. 

It  would  make  an  endless  chapter  if  mention  were  to 
be  made  of  all  the  comical  and  tragical  incidents  occa- 
sioned by  his  desire  to  keep  on  good  terms  both  with  Kate 
and  the  town.  He  constituted  himself  her  ambassador, 
and  the  mediator  between  her  and  the  offended  commu- 
nity. He  exercised  all  his  ingenuity  in  putting  the  best 
interpretation  upon  her  words  and  actions.  It  was  especial- 
ly her  refusal  to  see  people  when  they  called  which  made 
bad  blood  ;  and  when  she  sent  word  to  Mrs.  Graves  that 
she  was  ill,  he  sometimes,  in  order  to  enforce  belief,  set 
himself  to  corroborating  her  statement  by  incidentally  de- 
scribing her  symptoms.  Then,  perhaps,  fifteen  minutes 
later,  Mrs.  Professor  Dowd  would  call,  and  Horace  would 
repeat  to  her  his  regrets  that  his  wife's  illness  would  pre- 
vent her  from  seeing  her ;  when  lo  !  Kate  would  appear, 
fresh  as  a  lily,  and  greet  the  visitor  with  serene  affability. 
After  a  few  experiences  of  this  sort,  he  grew  so  wary  that 
he  refused  to  commit  himself  concerning  his  wife's  health, 
and  once  when  Mrs.  Professor  Wharton  asked  how  Mrs. 
Larkin  was  he  answered  with  embarrassment: 


360  THE  MAMMON 

"  She  is  quite — that  is — I  am  not  sure — but  I  will  send 
the  servant  up  to  inquire." 

It  was  of  no  use  that  he  argued  with  Kate  that  the  social 
tactics  of  the  metropolis  were  inapplicable  in  a  town  of 
twelve  thousand  people,  where  everybody  knew  what  his 
neighbor  had  for  dinner.  A  certain  amount  of  mendacity 
might  be  practised  with  impunity  among  a  million  inhabi- 
tants which  among  a  thousand  might  be  unsafe.  Metro- 
politan mendacity  was  unsuited  for  country  life.  The 
special  occasion  which  called  forth  this  argument  was  an 
invitation  which  Kate  had  already  accepted  to  an  evening 
party  at  Mr.  Dallas's.  The  dress  she  was  to  wear  was 
already  spread  out  upon  the  bed,  and  her  maid  stood  ready 
to  unlace  her. 

11  Horace,"  she  called  into  the  next  room,  where  he  was 
struggling  with  an  obstreperous  bootjack,  "  I  really  can't 
go.  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  it  is  going  to  be  very 
stupid." 

He  appeared  in  the  door  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  perspir- 
ing, with  his  hair  down  in  his  eyes,  and  one  boot  in  his 
hand. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked. 

She  motioned  to  the  chambermaid  to  leave  the  room, 
and  then  repeated  her  declaration. 

"You  may  tell  Mrs.  Dallas,"  she  added,  blandly,  "that  I 
am  not  at  all  well,  otherwise  it  would  have  given  me  great 
pleasure  to  be  present  at  her  entertainment." 

He  stared  at  her  for  a  while  in  dumb  amazement. 

"Any  more  lies  you  want  me  to  tell  ?"  he  blurted  out, 
rudely. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Larkin,  I  must  decline  to  answer.  I  am 
not  accustomed  to  such  language." 

"And  I  am  not  accustomed  to  hear  women  lie." 

"  Indeed  "  (with  haughty  irony)  ;  "well,  you  know  you 
are  not  an  authority  on  social  usages." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  I  have  still  some  authority  left  of 
another  kind.  When  I  tell  you  that  I  desire  you  very 
much  to  go  to  Mrs.  Dallas's  ;  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance for  me  politically  that  you  should  not  offend 
her,  are  you,  then,  going  to  persevere  in  your  refusal  ?" 

"  I  have  told  you  once,  Mr.  Larkin,  that  I  am  not  go- 
ing." 

"  But  when  I  command  you  to  go  ?"  he  cried,  angrily  ; 
but  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth,  before  he 
comprehended  how  foolish  they  were.  To  threaten  with 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  361 

an  authority  which  he  could  not  enforce  was  wretched 
policy. 

"  You  forget  yourself,  Mr.  Larkin,"  was  her  reply,  ut- 
tered with  freezing  dignity,  and  he  knew  that  all  further 
parley  was  useless. 

But  this  hate — this  wild  hate — that  flared  up  in  his  breast, 
when,  after  having  closed  the  door,  he  sat  upon  his  bed, 
desperately  clutching  his  newly  blacked  boot,  and  shaking 
it  against  the  ceiling  !  Was  she  going  to  wreck  his  ca- 
reer, merely  out  of  caprice,  or  to  gratify  a  feminine  spite  ? 
That  was  not  like  her,  to  be  sure;  but  she  appeared  to  be 
capable  of  a  good  many  things  with  which  he  had  not 
credited  her.  He  was  fairly  frightened  at  the  wrath  which 
seethed  and  boiled  within  him  !  Was  all  that  he  had  lived 
for  to  come  to  naught,  for  this  woman's  sake  ?  The  boot 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  which  had,  by  this  time, 
blacked  both  his  face  and  his  shirt-bosom,  flew  with  a  bang 
against  the  hard-wood  paneling  of  the  wall  opposite,  where 
it  left  a  deep  mark.  For  the  good-natured  and  amiable 
fellow  that  he  had  always  held  himself  to  be,  this  was 
rather  anomalous  behavior.  But  life  was  dealing  out- 
rageously with  him,  rousing  all  the  latent  violence  depos- 
ited in  his  soul  by  barbaric  ancestors.  The  holy  St.  An- 
thony himself  could  not  have  endured  such  conduct  in  his 
wife  without  wishing  to  strangle  her.  But  then,  to  be 
sure,  St.  Anthony  was  a  bachelor. 

The  thought  of  her  who  was  dead  came  into  his  mind, 
and  he  grew  calm  ;  but  it  was  a  calm  filled  with  bitterness 
and  vain  regrets. 


362  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

THE  TRIALS    OF   A   CANDIDATE. 

One  would  have  supposed  that  when  such  words  had 
been  spoken  and  such  feelings  aroused,  life  under  the  same 
roof  would  be  impossible.  But  in  matrimony  nothing  is 
impossible.  The  alternative  to  people  who  are  ambitious 
and  have  children  is  so  terrible  as  to  be  no  alternative.  Kate 
exhibited  a  stiff  and  superb  aloofness  for  three  or  four 
days,  but  then  she  began  to  tire  of  her  lonely  dignity  ;  and 
at  last  she  unbent  so  far  as  to  make  remarks  at  the  table 
about  the  weather  and  other  novel  topics.  Horace,  though 
he  had  sworn  never  to  be  friendly  to  her  again,  could  not 
make-up  his  mind  to  snub  her,  first,  because  he  lacked  J;he 
courage,  and  secondly,  because  he  was,  at  heart,  more 
anxious  for  peace  than  she  was.  And  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  one  day,  when  he  was  sorely  harassed  by  the  pros- 
pect of  political  disaster,  she  entered  his  library,  and  took 
her  seat  in  one  of  the  great  leather-covered  easy  chairs. 
She  talked  politics  with  him  in  her  usual  clear  and  dis- 
passionate fashion,  asked  him  questions,  the  intelligence 
of  which  fairly  startled  him,  and  aroused  again  all  his  ad- 
miration for  her  beauty  and  cleverness.  She  had  as  good 
a  brain  as  any  man,  he  reflected  ;  nay,  how  many  of  his 
friends  were  there  whose  cerebral  machinery  was  in  such 
perfect  order  ? 

"You  have  led  me  to  suppose,"  she  remarked,  afterhalf 
an  hour's  conversation,  "that  I  have  injured  your  political 
chances,  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  are  right." 

"Well,"  he  answered,  with  careless  magnanimity, 
"  there's  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk.  You  were  made 
in  a  different  mould  from  these  people  here,  and  you  can't 
help  offending  them." 

"Then  you  have  given  up  the  contest  ?"  she  inquired, 
with  sudden  animation. 

"Not  at  all.  But  you  mustn't  be  surprised  if  I  am  de- 
feated. My  only  chance  is  to  pull  through  on  the  Presi- 
dential ticket ;  for  the  district  is  Republican  ;  and  if  I  am 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  363 

scratched  in  Torryville,  I  may  have  enough  of  a  majority 
outside  of  this  county  to  make  up  for  it." 

"Would  $25,000  improve  your  prospects?" 

He  opened  his  eyes  with  joyous  wonder.  This  was 
help  in  the  eleventh  hour.  It  would  have  comported 
better  with  his  dignity  if  he  had  been  able  to  conceal  his 
delight,  but  the  proposal  took  him  so  entirely  by  surprise 
that  he  could  not  disguise  the  sense  of  happy  relief  it  gave 
him. 

"  Kate,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  not  going  to  pretend  to  be 
better  than  I  am.  $25,000  would  put  me  on  my  pins  again 
at  a  jump." 

"  Here's  my  check  for  the  amount,"  said  Kate,  handing 
him  a  piece  of  paper  which  she  had  kept  folded  up  in  her 
hand  ;  "it  is  my  contribution  to  your  campaign  expenses." 

"  Thanks,  Kate  ;  it  is  very  good  of  you  to  take  such  an 
interest  in  my  affairs." 

"  Your  affairs  are  my  affairs,"  she  declared,  rising  and 
moving  toward  the  door.  "  But  perhaps,"  she  added,  fac- 
ing him  again  with  her  fine  quiet  smile,  "  you  wouldn't 
mind  telling  me  how  you  are  going  to  use  this  money  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  make  friends  of  the  Mammon  of  Un- 
righteousness," he  answered,  with  a  quizzical  look. 
"You've  got  to  fight  the  devil  with  fire,  and  mammon 
with  mammon." 

His  wife's  magnanimity  in  this  instance  quite  dazzled 
Horace.  He  had  been  brought  up  frugally,  and  had  early 
been  impressed  with  the  value  of  money.  It  almost  hurt 
him  at  times  to  see  how  lavishly  she  spent  her  wealth  on 
things  which  he  regarded  as  utterly  superfluous.  Nay, 
odd  as  it  may  seem,  one  of  the  trials  of  his  new  estate  was 
his  inability  to  habituate  himself  to  the  scale  of  expendi- 
ture befitting  a  millionaire.  From  old  habit  he  practised 
all  sorts  of  small  economies,  such  as  using  a  match  twice, 
when  there  was  a  fire  in  the  room,  tearing  off  the  blank 
half  of  a  letter  sheet,  etc.  If  he  saw  a  pin  on  the  floor  he 
always  picked  it  up,  and  stuck  it  into  the  lapel  of  his  coat  ; 
and  though  Kate  frequently  depleted  his  arsenal,  by  throw- 
ing the  whole  collection  into  the  fire,  he  always  started  a 
new  one  the  following  day.  His  coats  and  trousers,  which 
he  found  it  harder  to  part  with  the  older  they  grew,  also 
had  a  mysterious  way  of  disappearing  ;  and  new  clothes, 
accompanied  by  preposterous  bills,  arrived  simultaneously 
from  Adrian's  tailor  in  New  York.  From  long  experience 
he  knew  how  futile  it  was  to  remonstrate  with  Kate  on 


364  THE  MAMMON" 

such  extravagance  ;  for  her  supercilious  smile  and  her  offer 
to  settle  the  bills  were  harder  to  put  up  with  than  his 
enforced  dudishriess.  Yet  so  far  from  giving  himself  airs 
with  his  modish  attire,  in  the  presence  of  his  simple  neigh- 
bors, he  was  half  ashamed  of  himself,  and  had  a  constant 
desire  to  apologize. 

It  dawned  upon  him  gradually  that  Kate  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  remodel  him  with  a  view  to  his  future  diplo- 
matic calling  ;  and  the  question  seemed  worth  debating 
how  far  he  ought  to -accommodate  himself  to  this  process 
of  transformation. 

He  determined,  of  course,  in  the  first  instance  to  oppose 
it  with  all  his  might  ;  and  plumed  himself  not  a  little  on 
his  successful  resistance  to  her  proposition  to  have  him 
part  his  hair  in  the  middle.  It  would  ruin  him  politically, 
he  declared,  if  he  were  to  appear  in  Torryville  with  his 
coarse  bristles  divided  in  the  style  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
It  would  subject  him  to  no  end  of  ridicule,  and  blight  his 
career.  As  a  mere  joke,  however,  he  allowed  her  to 
experiment  a  little  with  his  hair  ;  chiefly  because  it  was  so 
very  flattering  to  have  her  take  such  an  interest  in  his 
appearance.  With  a  look  of  sheepish  resignation  he 
stood  before  the  mirror,  while  she  made  two  stiff  ivory 
brushes  promenade  over  his  cranium  with  ruthless  energy. 
And  he  scarcely  noticed,  or  resolutely  refused  to  notice, 
that  after  each  such  experiment,  the  partition  crept  a  little 
further  up  his  skull  ;  his  mustache  acquired  a  brisker  and 
more  aspiring  aspect,  and  his  whole  exterior  an  indefinable 
air  of  chic. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  these  concessions  to  his  better 
half  injured  Horace  in  the  campaign  in  the  active  prep- 
aration of  which  he  spent  the  entire  summer.  He  soon 
found  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  rely  upon  his  old 
popularity  ;  but  he  acquired  instead  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing a  master  in  "  organization,  "  which  is  a  euphemism  for 
all  those  agencies  and  influences  which  can  ill  bear  the  light 
of  publicity.  The  nomination,  which  came  within  an  inch 
of  slipping  through  his  fingers,  he  secured  by  "organiza- 
tion;" and  during  the  months  of  September  and  October 
his  agents  worked  up  the  district  with  a  thoroughness 
which  had  never  before  been  equalled.  It  was  virtually  a 
house  to  house  canvass  ;  with  arguments,  both  material 
and  intellectual,  in  each  case  adapted  to  the  character  of 
the  elector.  The  candidate  himself  appeared  but  twice 
during  the  campaign  in  public,  and  made  then  the  neces- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  365 

sary  revision  of  his  exterior,  wearing  ill-fitting  clothes  and 
restoring  his  hair  to  its  pristine  rusticity.  This  was  in  re- 
sponse to  the  many  allusions  in  the  Democratic  press  to 
his  aristocratic  proclivities  and  princely  style  of  living. 
The  speeches  he  made  were  brief  and  made  no  particular 
sensation.  They  were  merely  a  vehement  reiteration  of 
the  party  programme.  He  was  no  longer  in  touch  with 
the  people  as  he  had  formerly  been  ;  he  missed  their  spon- 
taneous roar  of  applause  and  even  the  affectionate  disre- 
spect with  which,  of  old,  they  were  wont  to  greet  him. 
Altogether  he  was  in  an  unpleasant  frame  of  mind  and  saw 
omens  of  disaster  in  every  insignificant  incident.  Thus,  one 
day,  he  felt  the  cold  perspiration  start  on  his  brow,  while 
overhearing  a  conversation  between  two  Irish  politicians 
who  were  supposed  to  control  a  considerable  portion  of 
"the  liquor  vote." 

"  Larrkin,"  said  the  one,  "  lie's  gone  back  on  the  byes, 
begorra  ;  and  it's  the  byes  '11  go  back  on  him  on  eliction 
day." 

"  Oh,  ye  be  blamed/'  retorted  the  other,  in  whom 
Horace  recognized  a  chronic  pensioner,  "ye  talk  loik  a 
fool.  It's  savin'  his  money  he  is  fur  eliction  day." 

"  Oh,  the  divil  he  is,"  shouted  the  first  with  a  derisive 
laugh  ;  "  if  he's  a-savin  his  cash,  its  because  he  knows  he's 
goin'  to  be  bate." 

It  then  occurred  to  Horace  that,  in  his  attention  to  the 
remoter  parts  of  his  district,  he  had  perhaps  neglected 
Torryville  ;  and  a  check  for  $10,000  which  he  procured 
from  his  father-in-law,  was  during  the  next  week  diffused 
among  the  Hibernian  clubs.  An  organ  was  presented  to 
the  African  Methodist  Church,  a  hall  was  rented  and  fitted 
up  for  the  local  German  Turnverein,  and  several  hundred 
volumes  of  books  were  added  to  the  Larkin  Town  Library. 

While  the  candidate  was  thus  absorbed  in  his  political 
labors,  his  wife  amused  herself  as  best  she  could.  It  had 
not  been  her  choice  to  spend  the  summer  in  Torryville, 
but  she  had  recognized  the  necessity,  and  gracefully  acqui- 
esced. Having  exhausted  the  pleasures  of  driving  and 
horse-back  riding,  she  was  persuaded  by  Professor  Rams- 
dale  to  try  sailing,  and  when  Horace  marvelled  at  her  being 
able  to  spend  an  entire  afternoon  in  a  boat  with  that  "  stu- 
pid, fish-eyed  lunkhead,"  she  declared  that  she  did  not 
find  it  difficult,  because  "she  liked  dumb  animals." 

In  the  beginning  of  October  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van  Schaak 
arrived,  and  there  were  a  series  of  dinner-parties.  But 


366  THE  MAMMON 

these  afforded  no  relaxation  to  the  harassed  candidate,  but 
rather  an  additional  annoyance.  Kate  had  established  a 
standard  of  brilliancy  for  him  to  which  he  was  bound  to 
live  up;  and  if  he  showed  a  disposition  to  rest  upon  his 
laurels,  she  spurred  him  up  by  questions  and  direct  appeals. 
She  absolutely  demanded  that  he  should,  so  to  speak,  vin- 
dicate her  wisdom  in  having  married  him  on  every  occa- 
sion ;  and  in  every  phrase  he  uttered  demonstrate  the 
possession  of  the  intellect  with  which  she  credited  him. 
Now  it  is  quite  possible  that  during  the  fatigue  and  worry 
of  this  vexatious  campaign  he  had  not  his  faculties  entirely 
at  his  command,  and  in  endeavoring  to  come  up  to  her  re- 
quirements made  unsuccessful  attempts  at  being  funny. 
Kate's  face,  like  the  most  sensitive  barometer,  showed  him 
then  the  state  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  weather  proba- 
bilities for  the  next  twenty-four  hours.  It  was  observed 
by  the  quiet  Ramsdale,  that  after  a  dinner  at  which  he  had 
not  shone,  the  Honorable  Horace  seemed  never  anxious  to 
get  home.  And  this  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at ;  for 
Kate  proved  herself,  on  such  occasions,  the  mistress  of  a 
certain  scant,  but  cruelly  cutting  vocabulary,  which  some- 
times wounded  her  lord's  self-respect  to  the  quick.  He 
could  never  quite  comprehend  this  contradiction  in  her 
character ;  that  from  others  she  demanded  for  him  the  ut- 
most respect,  while  she  herself,  in  private,  was  capable  of 
treating  him  like  a  school-boy  or  a  pickpocket. 

"  Mr.  Larkin,"  she  said  to  him,  when  after  the  Honor- 
able Obed's  dinner-party  they  found  themselves  together 
in  matrimonial  solitude  ;  "  I  was  ashamed  of  you  to-night. 
For  an  intellectual  man,  I  thought  you  made  a  very  poor 
show.  You  appeared  as  heavy  and  poky  as  if  you  had 
not  a  spark  of  wit." 

"  But  my  dear,"  he  answered  with  unwonted  meekness  ; 
"didn't  you  tell  me,  the  night  before  last,  after  our  own 
dinner,  that  when  I  made  jokes,  I  appeared  undignified 
and  silly.  To-night  I  thought  I  would  not  run  that  risk  ; 
and  so  I  introduced  serious  topics  of  conversation  ;  and  as 
it  appeared  to  me  I  held  my  own  very  creditably." 

"  No,  you  did  not,  Professor  Dowd  routed  you  entirely 
in  that  discussion  about  the  duty  of  the  state  to  care  for 
the  weak." 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  but  I  don't  think  so." 

And  now  followed  a  recapitulation  of  the  argument,  end- 
ing in  personal  recrimination. 

"  My  idea  of  table  talk,"  Kate  finished,  summing  up  the 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  367 

case  in  her  clear  and  dispassionate  way,  "  is  that  it  should 
be  neither  silly  nor  profound.  A  certain  lightness  of  touch 
is  essential.  People  don't  go  to  dinner-parties  to  be  in- 
structed, but  to  be  amused.  If  a  man  has  wit  he  can  dis- 
cuss almost  anything  and  make  it  entertaining.  I  remember 
once  reading  of  Gladstone,  that  he  was  heard  discussing, 
between  the  oysters  and  the  coffee,  French  cookery,  trans- 
lations of  Homer,  the  excavations  at  Nineveh,  Parisian 
bonnets,  college  athletics,  the  early  church  in  Great  Brit- 
ain, horse-racing,  and  Egyptian  hieroglyphics,  and  that  he 
appeared  to  be  equally  at  home  and  equally  felicitous  on 
all  these  topics." 

It  may  have  been  in  consequence  of  the  unusual  exer- 
tions attendant  upon  these  dinner-parties,  that  Mrs.  Obed 
Larkin  suddenly  died  of  an  apoplectic  stroke  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  month.  She  had  a  funeral  that  would  have  re- 
joiced her  heart,  if  she  could  have  witnessed  it ;  for  out  of 
respect  to  the  Founder,  all  the  faculty  and  students  of  the 
University  accompanied  her  to  the  grave,  forming  a  pro- 
cession which  covered  half  a  mile  of  the  road  from  the  town 
to  the  cemetery.  The  gloom  which  this  sad  event  cast 
over  the  family  was  not  relished  by  old  Mr,  Van  Schaak, 
who  therefore  returned  to  New  York  without  awaiting  the 
issue  of  the  election.  As  it  was,  moreover,  a  presidential 
year,  he  was  half  inclined  to  depart  from  his  usual  habit 
and  honor  one  or  the  other  of  the  candidates  with  his  vote. 
He  had  a  long  private  interview  with  Kate  before  tak- 
ing his  leave  ;  and  it  must  have  been  an  exciting  topic 
which  they  discussed,  for  the  old  gentleman  looked  as  red 
as  a  lobster  when  he  issued  forth  from  his  daughter's 
apartments. 

The  week  preceding  an  election  is  never  a  pleasant  one 
to  peace-loving  citizens.  Brass-bands,  fish-horns,  and  dis- 
cordant cheering  made  the  night  hideous  ;  bonfires  were 
burnt  on  the  public  square,  and  parades  and  torchlight 
processions  imparted  an  unwonted  animation  to  the  quiet 
village  streets.  Men  in  fantastic  regalia  rushed  about 
with  sooty  perspiring  faces,  yelling  for  their  favorite  can- 
didate, and  the  ubiquitous  small  boy  formed  the  tail  of 
all  processions  and  cheered  impartially  for  all  candidates. 
When  finally  the  first  Tuesday  in  November  made  an  end 
of  this  pandemonium,  all  the  community  drew  a  sigh  of 
relief.  The  average  citizen,  strong  partisan  though  lie 
was,  smiled  at  his  zeal  and  was  reconciled  to  any  result, 
provided  it  was  decisive.  Only  Dallas  and  his  little  gang, 


368  THE  MAMMON 

who  were  suspected  of  "  knifing  "  their  own  congressional 
nominee,  the  Honorable  Horace  Larkin,  were  so  chagrined 
at  his  election  that  they  forgot  to  rejoice  in  their  national 
victory.  It  was  small  comfort  to  know  that  the  obnoxious 
gentleman  ran  2,800  votes  behind  his  ticket,  and  that  his 
majority  was  but  101.  This  had  so  obviously  been  the 
occasion  to  kill  him  off  and  relegate  him  forever  to  obscu- 
rity ;  and  to  have  come  so  near  to  this  result,  without  yet 
attaining  it,  was  doubly  bitter. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  369 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

"THE    CLOVEN    FOOT." 

Aleck  Larkin's  novel,  "  The  Cloven  Foot,"  after  many 
vain  wanderings,  found  at  last  a  publisher.  Like  a  mad- 
man the  happy  author  rushed  home  on  the  day  when  he 
received  the  letter  informing  him  of  its  acceptance.  He 
spent  an  evening  of  absurd  hilarity  with  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, talking  the  most  rapturous  nonsense  and  embracing 
promiscuously  every  one  who  came  in  his  path.  It  was 
only  Gertrude's  timely  warning  which  saved  him  from  dem- 
onstrating his  joy  in  the  same  impressive  manner  to  the 
chambermaid.  At  dinner  he  cracked  a  bottle  of  champagne 
and  made  a  speech,  which  was  a  triumph  of  unconscious 
humor.  To  Gertrude,  however,  it  seemed  beautiful,  elo- 
quent, and  perfectly  rational.  She  felt  more  convinced  than 
ever  that  Aleck  was  a  great  man  ;  and  she  began  to  swell 
agreeably  with  an  historic  importance,  like  Tasso's  Leonora 
or  Dante's  Beatrice.  Life  had  yet  something  in  store  for 
her.  When  the  novel  was  published,  nobody  could  fail  to 
see  what  a  wonderful  work  it  was.  She  had  told  Aleck  so, 
all  along,  encouraged  him  when  he  lost  heart ;  and  by  her 
sincere  praise  spurred  him  on  toward  its  completion.  How 
often  he  had  told  her  that,  without  her,  the  book  would 
and  could  never  have  been  written  !  And  she  knew  that 
this  was  true  ;  and  some  day,  perhaps,  the  world  too  would 
know  it  ;  and  then  her  title  to  glory  would  be  secure.  The 
time  might  even  come,  a  hateful  little  afterthought  sug- 
gested, when  she  might  return  her  sister-in-law's  patron- 
age with  interest  ;  and  she  saw  herself  move  with  queenly 
dignity  through  gorgeously  lighted  apartments,  distribut- 
ing benevolent  nods  and  smiles,  a  la  Kate,  to  a  respectfully 
admiring  multitude. 

It  was  three  months  before  Christmas  that  the  book  ap- 
peared ;  and  although  it  caused  no  great  commotion  in 
literary  circles,  it  yet  had  something  more  than  a  succes 
(festime.  The  influential  magazines  and  papers,  as  a  rule, 
spoke  well  of  it ;  one  or  two  reviewers  (among  whom  Aleck's 
24 


370  THE  MAMMON 

journalistic  debtor  of  long  ago)  indulged  in  extravagant 
prophecies  regarding  his  future  ;  and  some  pitiless  humor- 
ist, seeking  whom  he  might  devour,  fell  foul  of  him  and 
held  him  up  to  ridicule.  He  entirely  lacked  the  heart  to 
show  this  latter  production  to  his  wife,  and  feigned  a  fever- 
ish hilarity,  in  order  to  conceal  from  her  the  pain  which  it 
caused  him.  But  he  was  only  moderately  successful  in  this 
pious  fraud.  Seeing  that  something  was  wrong,  she  put 
him  to  bed  in  spite  of  his  protests,  and  clapped  mustard 
leaves  on  his  feet.  She  had  read  in  the  papers  that  there 
had  been  several  cases  of  typhoid  in  the  neighborhood  and 
she  feared  that  Aleck  had  made  himself  liable  to  an  attack 
by  overwork  and  excitement.  When  the  fever  failed  to 
declare  itself,  the  next  day,  he  was  permitted  to  get  up  ;  but 
for  a  whole  week  he  was  treated  like  an  invalid  and  pam- 
pered with  delicacies  and  anxious  tenderness.  After  that, 
he  vowed  he  would  show  his  wife  the  unfavorable  as  well 
as  the  favorable  criticisms,  but  when  the  next  of  the  latter 
order  fell  into  his  hands,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
would  inevitably  exaggerate  its  importance  ;  and  that  it 
would  be  cruel  to  inflict  upon  her  needless  pain.  There 
was  especially  one  sneering  and  supercilious  notice  from 
a  very  authoritative  journal  which  burned  in  his  pocket 
and  caused  him  untold  discomfort.  It  seemed,  for  a  while, 
a  duty  to  show  this  to  Gertrude,  lest  she  should  form  an 
exaggerated  idea  of  his  success.  But  he  knew  so  perfectly 
well  that,  in  her  mind,  it  would  blot  out  all  her  pleasure  in 
the  book  ;  it  would  convert  his  fair  success  into  the  most 
abject  failure  ;  nay,  he  feared  that  it  might  open  her  eyes 
to  the  undeniable  weaknesses  of  his  performance  and  damn 
it  irretrievably  in  her  estimation.  She  was  not  capable  of 
moderate  judgments.  He  was  in  her  sight  either  a  genius 
or  a  miserable  bungler.  There  were  no  intermediate  de- 
grees. And  who  will  blame  him  for  refusing  to  exchange 
the  former  character  for  the  latter  ?  He  found  it  so  pleas- 
ant to  be  a  hero  in  his  own  family  ;  to  have  incense  burned 
to  him  ;  to  have  his  modesty  deprecated  by  a  fond  convic- 
tion, on  his  wife's  part,  that  it  was  but  the  crowning  adorn- 
ment of  greatness. 

The  final  awakening,  if  awakening  it  was,  from  this  de- 
lightful dream  of  fame  occurred  six  months  after  the  pub- 
lication of  "  The  Cloven  Foot."  Then  the  publisher's 
statement  arrived,  showing  a  sale  of  six  hundred  and  fifty- 
seven  copies.  As,  according  to  the  contract,  the  author 
was  to  renounce  his  copyright  on  the  first  one  thousand 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  371 

copies  sold,  there  was  not  a  cent  due  to  him  ;  and  as,  more- 
over, he  had  rashly  guaranteed  a  sale  of  one  thousand,  he 
had  the  further  prospect  of  paying  one  or  two  hundred 
dollars  for  his  courtship  of  the  muses.  He  spent  two  weeks 
of  absolute  torture  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  to 
confess  this  humiliating  state  of  aifairs  to  Gertrude  ;  and  he 
was  prepared  for  tears,  reproaches,  and  accusations,  all  of 
which  he  was  resolved  to  bear  with  guilty  resignation.  But 
how  great  was  his  amazement  when  the  incalculable  Ger- 
trude, instead  of  the  role  of  the  accuser,  assumed  that  of 
the  comforter.  She  seated  herself  upon  his  lap,  and  while 
twirling  his  mustache  with  a  thoughtful  air,  told  him 
all  manner  of  charming  things  about  the  inability  of  the 
world  to  appreciate  true  greatness,  about  the  tragic  fate  of 
genius  in  general,  and  the  ultimate  bitter-sweet  revenge  of 
a  posthumous  renown.  She  spoke  of  Keats  and  Shelley, 
and  although  he  failed  to  see  any  similarity  between  his  lot 
and  theirs,  her  words  yet  aroused  in  him  a  sense  of  meri- 
torious martyrdom.  He  saw  his  imaginary  works  em- 
balmed in  dignified  library  editions,  which  were  much 
praised  but  seldom  read  ;  and  usurped  for  the  nonce  a 
chapter  in  some  future  History  of  American  Literature 
among  those  writers  whose  illustrious  gifts  had  only  se- 
cured recognition,  when  it  could  benefit  them  no  more. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  her  contentment  was  simu- 
lated. That  she  too  had  been  building  castles  in  the  air, 
which  now  came  tumbling  down  about  her  ears,  never 
once  entered  his  head.  He  did  not  possess  the  ingenuity 
to  connect  certain  mysterious  letters  he  had  received  from 
real-estate  dealers  with  any  project  of  hers,  which  now 
must  come  to  naught.  He  had  thought  it  rather  odd  that 
people  of  whom  he  had  never  heard  should  beg  to  inform 
him  that  they  would  be  happy  to  rent  him  an  admirably 
situated,  and  completely  furnished  country  place  at  Islip, 
or  Irvington  or  Bar  Harbor,  with  stable,  carriages,  etc., 
for  the  very  moderate  sum  of  $4,000  or  $6,000  or  $8,000,  as 
the  case  might  be.  But  he  ascribed  this  eccentricity,  on 
their  part,  to  the  zeal  of  their  agents,  which  often  outran 
their  discretion.  If  he  had  dreamed  that  Gertrude,  out 
of  the  proceeds  of  his  book,  had  expected  to  rent  a  pleas- 
ant summer  home,  where  they  might  live  in  freedom  and 
contented  isolation,  the  financial  failure  of  his  enterprise 
would  have  grieved  him  more  deeply.  For  he  knew 
well  what  a  trial  the  summer  was  to  her,  in  second-rate 
Long  Island  boarding-houses,  crowded  with  vulgar  and 


3/2  THE  MAMMON 

aggressive  people,  whose  one  aim  seemed  to  be  to  prove 
to  you  that  they  were  quite  as  good  as  you  were,  and 
probably  "  a  blamed  sight  better."  She  was  refined  and 
sensitive  ;  not  given  to  be  autobiographical,  and  receiving 
autobiographical  confidences  on  short  acquaintance  with 
a  certain  reserve  which  aroused  animosity.  She  was  a 
solitary  nature  and  had  never  quite  acquired  the  tone  of 
easy  intercourse  with  her  own  sex.  The  awful  democracy 
'  of  the  summer  boarding-house  seemed  therefore  positively 
infernal  to  her  in  its  capacity  for  inflicting  suffering. 

It  was  far  past  the  usual  hour  for  retiring  when  Ger- 
trude, with  a  lugubrious  enjoyment  of  her  unsuspected 
sacrifice,  rose  from  her  husband's  lap,  smoothed  her  hair 
before  the  mirror,  and  declared  with  a  laugh  that  she 
wanted  no  more  nonsense,  and  that  it  was  time  he  should 
"  behave."  It  was  her  habit  to  charge  to  his  account  all 
"  foolishness,"  by  which  was  meant  undignified  demon- 
strations of  affection;  and  though  at  times  he  knew  him- 
self innocent  as  to  the  initiative  he  never  demurred  against 
such  charges.  For,  as  has  been  hinted,  she  was  terribly 
sensitive  ;  and,  if  he  was  to  be  trusted,  had  the  most  per- 
verse memory  in  the  United  States.  The  student-lamp 
upon  the  table  Was  growing  dimmer,  and  threatened  to  go 
out.  A  cold  February  rain  was  beating  against  the  win- 
dow-panes. Then,  with  startling  distinctness,  a  loud  bark 
re-echoed  through  the  house,  half  like  the  crowing  of  a 
cock,  half  like  the  baying  of  a  hound.  Gertrude's  face 
grew  suddenly  rigid  and  her  eyes  dilated  with  fear. 

"  What  is  it,  dear,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  cried,  jumping  up  and 
seizing  her  hand. 

"  Croup  ! "  she  whispered  ;  "  run  for  the  doctor." 
She  disengaged  her  hand  from  his  grasp,  and  recovering 
her  composure  hastened  to  the  nursery.  There  she  found 
her  four-year-old  boy  Obed  standing  on  the  floor  in  his 
night-gown,  holding  on  to  the  bed,  while  the  terrible  cough 
shook  his  little  frame  from  head  to  foot.  The  steam 
heater,  that  assassin  of  innocents,  had,  for  some  inscrutable 
reason,  known  only  to  the  janitor,  raised  the  temperature 
to  eighty-five  degrees.  The  child,  perspiring  and  uncom- 
fortable, had  kicked  off  its  coverings  (in  spite  of  safety 
pins),  rolled  out  of  bed,  and  sleeping  there  in  a  draft  from 
the  window,  which  was  lowered  a  little  at  the  top,  had 
caught  the  dangerous  malady.  The  nurse,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  watch  him,  was,  as  usual,  having  company  in  the 
kitchen.  The  doctor  arrived  in  half  an  hour,  took  the  boy's 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  373 

temperature,  listened  to  his  breathing,  and  left  directions 
for  his  treatment.  Aleck  begged  to  be  permitted  to  watch 
over  him,  but  was  peremptorily  refused.  When,  in  spite  of 
the  prohibition,  he  lingered  at  the  door,  Gertrude  impa- 
tiently motioned  him  away. 

"  What  is  the  good  of  our  both  losing  our  sleep  ?  "  she 
asked  ;  "you  go  to  your  room,  and  take  Ralph  in  bed  with 
you  ;  and  see  that  he  does  not  kick  the  blanket  off." 

"  I  will,"  he  answered,  "  if  you  will  promise  to  call  me  at 
two  and  let  me  watch  till  morning." 

"  Very  well !  But  I  don't  want  you  to  talk  now  ;  he  is 
falling  asleep.  Hush-sh-sh." 

He  had  no  choice  but  to  obey.  With  a  heavy  heart  he 
undressed,  but  resolved  to  stay  awake,  so  as  to  be  at  her 
beck  in  case  of  need.  For  an  hour  or  more  his  son  Ralph, 
who,  with  all  his  charming  qualities,  was  not  a  pleasant 
bedfellow,  assisted  him  faithfully  to  keep  this  resolution ; 
but  at  the  end  of  that  time  unconsciousness  stole  over  him, 
his  thoughts  became  incoherent,  and  he  drifted  away  into 
dreamland.  He  scarcely  knew  how  long  he  slept  ;  but  it 
must  have  been  about  five  o'clock  when  his  son  awoke  him 
with  this  timely  query  : 

"  Papa,  which  is  the  strongest,  the  lion  or  the  eagle  ? " 

Aleck,  seeing  the  light  peeping  in  through  the  closed 
shutters,  jumped  up  with  a  guilty  conscience.  Flinging 
his  dressing  gown  over  his  robe  de  nuit  he  started  for  the 
door  of  the  nursery.  Gertrude,  pale,  almost  haggard  in 
the  morning  light,  sat  at  the  bed  holding  the  sick  child  in 
her  lap.  Her  large  blue  eyes  were  full  of  anxiety ;  there 
was  trouble  in  her  face  ;  and  something  sweetly  maternal, 
like  the  shimmer  from  an  inner  radiance,  illuminated 
her  noble  features.  Aleck,  seeing  in  this  the  divinest  gift 
and  highest  vocation  of  womanhood,  gazed  at  her  with  a 
heart  overflowing  with  tenderness. 

"How  is  Obed?"  he  asked  a  little  shamefacedly;  for 
he  was  aware  that  he  must  look  irritatingly  fresh  and  rested 
after  five  hours'  sleep. 

"  How  is  he  ? "  she  answered,  with  quivering  lips.  "  Come 
and  see." 

Aleck  walked  on  tiptoe  across  the  floor,  feeling  all  the 
while  her  reproachful  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  darling  ? "  he  said  to  the  boy,  laying 
his  hand  on  his  hot  forehead  ;  "  papa  is  so  sorry  you  are 
ill." 

The  child  smiled  feebly,  but  did  not  answer  ;  his  poor 


374  THE  MAMMON1 

little  breast  was  heaving  painfully,  and  his  breath  came 
with  a  distressing  piping  and  stertorous  sound  through  the 
obstructed  little  throat. 

"I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  Gertie,"  Aleck  continued, 
turning  to  his  wife. 

"  I  should  think  you  ought  to  be,"  she  replied,  curtly. 

"  I  had  determined  to  stay  awake  ;  but  sleep  overcame 
me.  But  why  did  you  not  call  me,  as  you  promised  ?" 

"If  you  did  not  care  enough  for  your  child  to  be  kept 
awake  by  anxiety  for  his  life,  I  did  not  want  your  assist- 
ance," she  retorted,  with  terrible  severity. 

"  How  can  you  speak  so  to  me  ? "  he  broke  out,  deeply 
wounded.  "  Do  I  not  care  for  my  children  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  as  long  as  it  costs  you  no  trouble,  you  care  for 
them." 

"  Gertrude,"  he  exclaimed,  gazing  at  her  in  sudden  alarm, 
"  what  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  are  an  unfeeling  brute,"  she  cried,  bursting 
into  a  flood  of  tears.  "  Here  your  child  is  dying,  while  you 
are  sleeping." 

If  she  had  struck  him  a  blow  Aleck  could  not  have  been 
more  astounded.  Was  this  his  gentle,  considerate  wife,  who 
only  last  night  lifted  a  burden  from  his  heart  by  her  sweet 
confidence  and  affection?  In  hopeless  bewilderment  he 
stood  staring  at  her.  She  had  put  the  child  in  its  crib,  and 
had  flung  herself  prostrate  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  clutching 
the  blanket  with  her  fingers.  Her  frame  was  shaken  by 
convulsive  weeping.  He  could  not  bear  to  take  her  to  task 
for  her  injustice  to  him,  while  her  heart  was  wrung  with 
anguish  for  her  child.  Suddenly  he  remembered  the  words 
of  the  physician  who  said,  years  ago,  that  she  had  poor 
nerves.  This  reflection,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  brought 
him  infinite  relief.  She  had  watched  while  he  had  slept. 
Her  nerves  were  unstrung,  her  head  was  racked  with  anx- 
iety and  pain.  The  suspicion  pierced  him  like  an  arrow 
that  perhaps  her  love  for  the  child  was  deeper  than  his. 
How  often  he  had  felt  a  glow  of  satisfaction  at  the  thought 
that  he  was  a  good  and  affectionate  father  !  And  yet  his 
affection  had  not  been  strong  enough  to  keep  him  awake 
while  his  boy's  life  was  in  danger. 

He  was  interrupted  in  these  reflections  by  the  arrival  of 
the  doctor.  Gertrude  arose,  wiped  away  her  tears,  and, 
struggling  for  composure,  gave  an  account  of  the  night. 
The  physican,  after  having  examined  the  child,  declared 
that  only  tracheotomy  could  save  its  life.  Another  phy- 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  375 

sician  was  accordingly  called  in  and  the  operation  success- 
fully performed.  The  day  passed  amid  feverish  fluctuations 
of  hope  and  fear.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  there 
seemed  to  be  a  great  improvement  ;  the  boy's  temperature 
went  down ;  his  breathing  became  easier.  Gertrude  was 
then  induced  to  take  a  little  rest,  and  Aleck  undertook  to 
stay  with  Obed.  He  received  meekly  a  hundred  instruc- 
tions, promising  to  carry  them  out  to  the  letter.  The  child 
was  sitting  up  in  bed  propped  up  in  pillows.  With  his  first 
relief  from  pain,  his  liveliness  returned,  and  he  made  pa- 
thetic attempts  to  play  with  his  father,  putting  his  finger  in 
his  mouth,  pulling  his  hair  down  over  his  forehead,  and  nip- 
ping at  his  mustache,  and  after  each  prank  giving  a  sound- 
less laugh,  which  was  touching.  When  he  began  to  tire  of 
these  diversions,  Aleck  brought  him  a  box  of  colored  Christ- 
mas candles,  which  served  to  amuse  him  for  another  half 
hour.  Presently  he  signified  by  signs  that  he  wanted  them 
lighted,  and  Aleck,  not  having  the  heart  to  refuse  him, 
struck  a  match  and  lighted  a  candle.  The  little  boy  puck- 
ered up  his  lips  and  tried  to  blow  it  out,  but  could  not  ;  as  he 
yet  breathed  through  the  tube  in  his  throat.  He  soon  dis- 
covered, however,  that  by  putting  his  finger  over  the  open- 
ing of  the  tube  he  could  make  the  flame  flicker.  The  great 
success  of  this  experiment  led  to  its  repetition.  But  the 
third  time  the  candle  was  blown  out,  he  was  seized  with  a 
violent  coughing  fit,  and  fell  back,  choking,  turned  black 
in  the  face,  and  as  his  mother  appeared,  pale  with  fright, 
in  the  door,  he  made  a  pitiful  attempt  to  call  her  name. 
She  seized  him  in  her  arms  ;  his  little  struggling  fists  grazed 
her  cheek,  and  fell  down  limply  on  his  breast.  It  was  a 
dead  child  she  pressed  to  her  heart. 

But  oh  !  the  misery  of  the  following  days,  the  alterna- 
tions of  keen  pangs  of  anguish  and  a  mellow,  tearful  sad- 
ness and  half  wondering  resignation  ;  the  hopeless  loneli- 
ness of  sorrow,  and  the  union  of  hearts  under  a  common 
loss  ;  the  impotent  rebellion  against  God's  inscrutable 
ways,  and  the  anxious  peering  behind  the  veil  of  eternity; 
the  awful  sense  of  our  insignificance  ;  the  callousness  of 
exhausted  emotions — it  were  vain  to  describe  it.  It  is 
hinted  at  in  Omar  Khayyam's  terrible  verse  : 


"  When  you  and  I  behind  the  veil  have  passed, 

Oh,  but  the  long,  long  while  the  world  shall  last, 
Which  of  our  coming  and  departure  heeds 
As  heeds  the  seven  seas  a  pebble  cast." 


3/6  THE  MAMMON 

Aleck,  having  wrestled  with  his  grief  until  he  no  longer 
knew  whether  he  or  it  had  conquered,  set  about  making 
arrangements  for  the  funeral.  He  inserted  an  obituary 
notice  in  the  papers  ;  not  because  there  was  anyone  he 
wished  to  notify  (for  he  had  but  few  acquaintances  in  the 
city),  but  simply  in  conformity  to  custom.  When  the  day 
of  the  funeral  arrived,  there  were,  besides  the  clergyman 
and  the  undertaker,  but  six  people  in  the  room  ;  all  asso- 
ciates of  Aleck  in  the  school.  The  white  coffin  was  stand- 
ing on  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  parlor,  and  Gertrude, 
gazing  with  tearless  eyes  upon  the  lovely  little  face,  mar- 
velled that  this  little  form,  which,  but  a  few  days  ago, 
was  so  instinct  with  restless  life  and  activity,  could  now 
be  so  strangely  still.  The  clergyman  had  just  opened  his 
prayer-book,  and  was  about  to  begin  the  service,  when 
there  appeared  at  the  door  a  tall,  gray-haired  man.  He 
walked  up  to  the  coffin,  and  stood  for  some  minutes  star- 
ing at  the  dead  child.  Gertrude,  who  knew  his  step  before 
she  saw  his  face,  arose  and  went  toward  him. 

"  Darter,"  he  said,  huskily,  grasping  both  her  hands,  "  I 
want  to  take  little  Obed  home." 

She  tried  to  answer,  but  could  not  utter  a  sound.  Her 
tongue  seemed  paralyzed,  and  there  was  a  lump  in  her 
throat. 

"  Darter,"  the  old  man  continued,  gazing  at  her  solemnly, 
"  I  want  to  take  you  home,  too." 

"  But  Aleck— father,"  she  managed  to  falter. 

"  We'll  take  him  along,  too." 

It  was  very  still  in  the  room.  The  bright  winter  sun 
poured  in  at  the  windows,  and  falling  upon  her  head,  bur- 
nished her  hair  with  a  faint  golden  sheen.  The  mantel 
clock  ticked  away  busily  in  the  silence.  The  clergyman 
stood  with  his  open  book,  glancing  from  one  to  the  other, 
anxious  to  begin  the  service.  Aleck,  in  the  meanwhile, 
had  come  forward,  and  was  holding  his  uncle's  hand. 
Their  eyes,  by  a  common  impulse,  sought  the  dead  child, 
whose  placid  face  the  sun  was  illuminating.  And  a  cruel 
pang  shot  through  Gertrude's  heart ;  no  rosy  translucence, 
no  vivid  play  of  features  responded  to  the  glare  of  the 
light.  The  bloodless  pallor,  the  sunken,  lustreless  eyes 
revived  the  pain  ;  and  an  awful  sense  of  desolation  and 
loss  overwhelmed  her.  And  when  the  clergyman's  clear 
voice  rang  out  upon  the  stillness,  "  I  am  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life,"  a  great  wave  of  emotion  swept  through  her 
soul ;  she  flung  herself  upon  her  father's  breast  and  wept. 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  377 

The  service  was  soon  at  an  end  ;  the  woful  moment 
came  when  the  coffin  was  closed  and  given  into  strange 
hands  ;  and  all  the  terrible  tragedy  of  mortality,  with  its 
solemn  riddles,  was  suggested  to  their  sorrowing  hearts. 
But  in  some  vague  way  it  was  a  comfort  to  them  that  the 
child  was  to  be  taken  to  the  family  vault  in  Torryville, 
and  not  to  that  dreary  necropolis,  that  awful  democracy 
of  the  dead,  on  Long  Island. 

At  noon  they  boarded  the  Torryville  train  and  arrived 
late  in  the  evening.  They  were  met  at  the  depot  by 
Horace  and  Kate,  in  whose  carriage  they  were  driven  in 
state  to  the  old  Larkin  mansion.  And  after  supper,  when 
they  were  all  gathered  in  the  large  library,  the  old  man 
walked  up  to  the  fire,  and  while  poking  it  in  an  aimless 
and  hap-hazard  way  delivered  himself  of  this  speech  : 

"  I  want  you  to  understand,  darter,  that  this  is  your 
house.  I  had  meant  to  give  it  to  you,  Horace.  But  I'll 
cancel  my  mortgage  on  your  house  ;  so  it'll  amount  to  the 
same  thing.  I  am  going  to  stay  with  Gertie  and  Aleck  as 
long  as  I  last.  And  I  want  you  to  be  good  friends,  boys  ; 
and  have  no  rows  about  property,  nor  nothing  else.  I'm 
a-goin'  to  leave  everything  in  ship-shape  ;  for  human  nat- 
ure is  human  nature,  and  I  don't  want  to  take  no  risks. 
For  you,  Aleck,  I'm  going  to  get  a  berth  in  the  University. 
Having  written  a  book,  you'll  do,  I  guess,  for  Professor  of 
English  ;  and  it  so  happens  that  we  have  just  got  a  va- 
cancy in  that  department,  and  if  we  didn't  have  one  I'd 
make  one.  And  your  little  boy,  Obed — God  bless  his  dear 
soul — well — all  I've  got  to  say  is  this — he  didn't  live  nor 
die- — for  nothing." 

It  was  about  a  week  after  this  conversation,  when  his 
new  sense  of  proprietorship  in  the  great  mansion  had  be- 
come a  trifle  blunted,  that  Aleck  overtook  his  uncle  walk- 
ing along  the  road  that  skirted  the  lake.  The  old  man 
had  never  been  much  of  a  pedestrian  ;  but  the  state  of 
his  digestion  gave  him  trouble,  and  his  physician  had 
ordered  him  to  take  a  daily  walk  of  an  hour.  There  he  was 
striding  along  with  his  ponderous  gray  head  bent,  and  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  ;  and  every  now  and  then,  when 
he  espied  a  piece  of  frozen  horse-manure,  he  thrust  the 
peg  of  his  cane  into  it,  and  flung  it  across  the  fence  into 
the  neighboring  field.  Aleck  noticed  that  the  surface  of 
the  snow  on  the  right  side  of  the  fence  was  black  with 
this  useful  fertilizer,  while  on  the  left  side  it  was  merely 
gray  from  the  dust  and  the  soot  of  passing  railway  trains. 


378  THE  MAMMON 

And  he  could  not  help  smiling,  as  he  reflected  that  the 
field  on  the  right  side  belonged  to  the  Larkin  estate, 
while  the  strip  of  land  between  the  lake  and  the  road 
belonged  to  Mr.  Dallas.  And  this  man  of  millions — this 
great  philanthropist — actually  occupied  himself  during  his 
morning  walks  in  spearing  frozen  horse-manure  and  fer- 
tilizing en  passant  his  own  field  rather  than  his  neighbor's. 
Aleck^  it  must  be  admitted,  felt  ashamed  on  his  uncle's 
account,  and  regretted  having  caught  him  at  so  undigni- 
fied a  task.  For  he  was  anxious  to  admire  him  in  sin- 
cerity— which  in  the  past  he  had  often  found  it  difficult  to 
do.  He  therefore  affected  not  to  observe  the  frequent 
employment  of  the  cane  as  a  manure  fork,  as  he  caught  up 
with  Mr.  Larkin,  and  they  walked  along  together. 

They  talked  for  a  while  of  indifferent  things  in  a  hap- 
hazard, fragmentary,  and  constrained  way.  They  had 
never  been  quite  congenial.  The  habitual  attitude  of 
years  could  not  (however  much  they  both  desired  it)  be 
suddenly  altered.  It  was  a  matter  of  feeling  ;  not  of  rea- 
soning. At  the  end  of  five  minutes  they  reached  a  hill. 
from  which  the  University  buildings  could  be  seen,  with 
the  sunshine  glittering  in  their  long  rows  of  windows. 

The  old  man  stopped,  thrust  his  stick  into  the  ground, 
and  stood  gazing  with  meditative  satisfaction  at  the  mas- 
sive row  of  rectangular  edifices.  "Aleck,"  he  burst  out 
suddenly,  while  his  face  lighted  up  with  a  rare  enthusiasm  ; 
"if  God  spares  me  I  hope  to  live  long  enough  to  see  the 
day  when  a  thousand  young  men  and  women  shall  climb 
that  hill  in  pursuit  of  learning." 

He  pointed  energetically  at  the  group  of  sandstone  bar- 
racks, as  he  uttered  these  words,  and  fixed  upon  his 
nephew  a  glance  full  of  craving  for  sympathy.  Aleck, 
however,  upon  whose  mind  the  horse-manure  episode  had 
left  an  unpleasant  impression,  answered,  perversely  : 

"  But,  uncle,  what  would  you  do  with  such  a  mob  of 
scholars  ?  The  country,  in  the  end,  would  be  embarrassed 
by  the  cheapness  of  higher  education." 

The  old  man  was  evidently  unprepared  for  such  an  an- 
swer, but  he  shook  off  its  suggestion,  as  he  would  a 
troublesome  insect,  and  remarked,  in  a  voice  of  deep  con- 
viction : 

"  No,  Aleck,  no.  No  man  is  ever  embarrassed  by  his  learn- 
ing, but  by  his  ignorance  he  is  embarrassed.  I  know  that. 
I  was  a  poor  boy,  and  had  no  chance  for  book-learning.  I 
always  thought  I  should  have  amounted  to  something  in 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  379 

the  world,  if  I  had  had  it.  I  don't  want  any  poor  boy  or 
girl  to  suffer,  as  I  did,  for  the  want  of  a  chance  to  learn  ; 
and  then  feel,  as  I  do,  what  he  might  have  been.  That  is 
the  reason  that  University  stands  there  on  the  hill-top, 
Aleck,  and  if  I  don't  live  to  see  a  thousand  students  there, 
I  am  sure  you  will." 

He  took  off  his  rusty  beaver,  wiped  its  inside  with  his 
bandana  handkerchief,  replaced  it  upon  his  head,  and  re- 
sumed his  slow,  ponderous  walk.  Aleck  remained  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  road.  A  flash  of  insight  pierced 
through  his  soul,  and  broke  with  a  swift  illumination  over 
his  countenance.  He  saw  the  pathetic  side  of  his  uncle's 
life  ;  its  failure  in  the  midst  of  its  success,  and  the  funda- 
mental nobility  of  the  character  which  it  revealed.  When 
he  rejoined  the  old  man,  there  was  a  new  light  in  his  eyes, 
and  in  his  voice  a  warm  cordiality  which  made  Mr.  Larkin 
look  up  for  a  moment,  but  with  no  betrayal  of  the  pleased 
surprise  which  he  felt.  That  was  the  beginning  of  their 
new  relation,  which  the  years  have  ripened  and  deepened. 


380  THE  MAMMON 


CHAPTER   XLVIL 

ENCHANTMENT  AND  DISENCHANTMENT. 

The  Hon.  Horace  Larkin  and  his  wife  were  seated  in 
their  great  drawing-room  on  the  first  floor,  discussing  that 
harassing  problem,  where  and  how  to  spend  the  summer. 
Their  house,  which  was  built  of  white  sandstone,  in  a 
semi-ecclesiastical  style,  a  kind  of  domesticated  Gothic — 
was  not  only  the  finest  in  Torryville,  but  one  of  the  finest 
in  the  western  part  of  the  State.  It  commanded  a  superb 
view  over  the  lake  and  the  valley,  and  traced  itself,  with 
its  high  gables,  in  strong  relief  against  the  dark  pine 
forest  and  the  green  fields,  planted  with  tulip-trees,  elms, 
and  shrubbery.  In  front  of  the  mansion,  the  whole  slope 
toward  the  lake  was  carefully  graded  and  decorated  with 
flower-beds,  gravel  walks,  and  well-trimmed  hedges.  A 
wide  carriage  road,  bounded  by  young  trees  and  white- 
washed bowlders,  wound  up  from  the  highway,  with 
graceful  curves,  to  a  wide,  resonant  archway  in  front  of  the 
main  entrance.  The  house  within,  if  a  daring  figure 
may  be  permissible,  was  an  esthetic  revel  in  three  acts 
and  some  twenty-five  scenes.  The  parlor,  which  was  fin- 
ished in  white  and  gold,  was  but  a  variation  of  that  of  the 
Van  Schaak  mansion  in  Gramercy  Park.  But  the  draw- 
ing-room was  an  independent  creation  of  Kate,  upon 
which  she  prided  herself.  It  had  a  superb  spaciousness, 
and  with  its  high  ceiling  and  wide  doors  gave  an  almost 
palatial  impression.  The  exquisite  woodwork,  the  grand 
piano  in  the  style  of  the  Directoire,  the  rich  and  harmoni- 
ously blended  draperies  of  doors  and  windows,  the  Jap- 
anese cabinets  laden  with  costly  bric-a-brac  betrayed  a 
fastidious  taste  and  artistic  skill  in  the  smallest  detail. 

It  was  in  deference  to  his  wife's  wishes  that  Horace 
spent  the  hour  after  dinner,  in  her  company,  in  this 
sumptuous  apartment.  He  never  felt  at  home  there  ;  he 
never  got  over  the  feeling  that  he  was  only  visiting  Kate. 
He  was  afraid  to  sit  down  on  the  chairs,  lest  he  might  soil 
or  break  them.  They  were  apparently  not  made  with  a 
view  to  service  ;  and  as  they  stood  there  in  dainty  minuet 
attitudes,  they  impressed  him  with  a  sense  of  alienism 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  381 

which  habit  did  not  blunt.  He  longed  for  his  big,  ugly, 
office  chair  with  the  well-worn  leather  cushion,  one  caster 
gone,  and  one  arm  in  a  state  of  chronic  decrepitude.  It 
was,  moreover,  a  trial  for  which  he  held  the  magnificence 
of  the  room  responsible,  that  he  was  forbidden  to  smoke  in 
it.  His  post-prandial  cigar  seemed,  from  long  habit,  abso- 
lutely essential  to  his  comfort ;  but  Kate  had  no  pity  on 
such  reprehensible  habits ;  and  in  the  end  he  had  to  con- 
form to  her  demand.  It  was  odd,  that,  in  spite  of  her  dis- 
approval of  him,  she  was  very  dependent  upon  his  society. 
Without  scolding  and  without  being  anything  of  a  shrew, 
she  had  a  knack  of  asserting  her  authority ;  and  for  lack 
of  other  subjects  she  probably  enjoyed  asserting  it  over 
him.  He  had  already  made  up  his  mind  to  sacrifice  his 
own  predilections  in  this  question  of  a  summer  residence  ; 
because  experience  had  taught  him  that  it  never  paid  to 
triumph  over  Kate.  A  victory  over  her  was  always  a  tem- 
porary affair,  which  in  the  course  of  time  would  resolve 
itself  into  a  disguised  defeat.  If  he  went  to  a  place  which 
she  did  not  like,  his  summer  would  be  a  prolonged  martyr- 
dom. The  more  was  the  pity  that  they  disagreed  so  rad- 
ically concerning  what  constituted  the  desirable  qualities 
of  a  place  of  summer  sojourn.  There  was  Newport,  which 
suited  Kate  to  perfection,  but  to  Horace  was  a  synonym 
for  everything  that  he  held  in  detestation.  Bar  Harbor 
he  found  scarcely  less  objectionable  ;  and  there  may  have 
been  a  soupcon  of  truth  in  Kate's  assertion  that  what  he 
would  have  preferred  above  all  would  be  to  stay  where  he 
was,  regarding  nothing  but  his  own  indolent  pleasure.  It 
may  have  been  observed  by  some  that  a  latent  acidity  had 
begun  to  develop  itself  in  Kate's  temper ;  and  though  she 
was  placid  and  dignified  as  ever,  her  quiet  words  had  often 
the  stings  of  scorpions.  She  had  a  way,  when  she  was 
crossed,  of  giving  him  neat  little  lady-like  stabs  in  every 
phrase  she  uttered.  When  the  evening  mail  arrived,  put- 
ting an  end  to  the  domestic  debate,  Horace  was  boiling 
with  suppressed  irritability.  Yet  he  said  nothing  to  indi- 
cate his  state  of  mind,  for  wives  have  this  advantage  in 
matrimonial  disputes,  that  they  care  nothing  for  the  con- 
sequences, while  husbands  as  a  rule  do.  Though  Kate 
might  wound  his  self-esteem,  he  never  wounded  hers  in  re- 
turn. And  I  fear  she  had  just  a  little  contempt  for  him  on 
this  account,  mistaking  his  chivalry  for  lack  of  ability.  It 
seemed  often  incomprehensible  to  her  how  he  had  risen 
to  the  eminence  he  had  reached,  with  his  very  moderate 


382  THE  MAMMON 

gifts  ;  and  she  could  only  account  for  it  on  the  supposition 
that  men  as  a  class  were  much  inferior  to  women.  She, 
for  her  part,  was  quite  prepared  to  take  up  the  gauntlet 
against  any  of  them.  And  there  was  no  disputing  in  her 
husband's  mind  that  her  impregnable  conviction  of  her 
own  superiority,  apart  from  other  considerations,  made 
her  a  formidable  antagonist. 

The  mail  this  evening  was  very  large  ;  and  there  was 
among  the  twenty  or  thirty  letters  a  large  franked  one  of 
an  imposing  official  aspect.  Kate  could  not  quite  conceal 
her  interest  in  this  letter  ;  nor  her  chagrin  when  her  hus- 
band, with  an  instinctive  impulse  to  thwart  her,  pushed 
it  aside  with  ostentatious  indifference.  He  tore  open 
envelope  after  envelope,  smiled,  grunted,  pulled  his  mus- 
tache, forgot  his  ill-humor  and  laughed  outright.  As  a 
member  elect  of  Congress,  and  a  potential  power  in  the 
State,  he  felt  his  importance.  Petitions  of  the  most  incon- 
ceivable sorts  were  raining  down  upon  him.  He  was 
courted  and  cajoled  by  every  interest  dependent  upon 
legislative  favor.  Human  nature  was  exhibiting  itself  to 
him  in  some  of  its  most  contemptible  aspects.  Horace 
had  rapidly  perused  half  a  dozen  petitions  and  one  or  two 
veiled  offers  of  bribery,  when  he  put  his  hand  in  due  order 
on  the  official  envelope.  He  broke  the  seal,  which  was 
that  of  the  Department  of  State  of  the  United  States  ;  and 
as  he  glanced  down  the  page,  his  features  lighted  up  with 
a  sudden  animation. 

"Kate,"  he  said,  forgetting  his  grudge,  "here  is  some- 
thing that'll  please  you." 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  looking  up  from  her  news- 
paper with  a  well-simulated  air  of  abstraction. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  Czar  of  all  the  Russias  ?" 

"A  man  after  my  own  heart,"  said  Kate  ;  "  a  little  whole- 
some despotism,  that's  just  what  we  need  in  this  pestilent 
democracy  of  ours." 

"  You'd  better  tell  him  that." 

"If  I  had  a  chance  I  would." 

"  Well,  you  may  have  the  chance  ;  here  is  a  letter  ask- 
ing me  if  I  will  accept  the  appointment  as  minister  to  the 
court  of  St.  Petersburg." 

"Ah  !  how  very  nice  !     I  hope  you  will  accept." 

"I  don't  know." 

Here  another  debate  followed,  but  a  much  more  amic- 
able one.  In  his  heart  of  hearts,  Horace  had  already  made 
up  his  mind,  The  honor,  coming  unsolicited,  was  tog 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  383 

great  to  decline.  There  were  a  hundred  reasons  why  he 
should  not  decline.  But,  wishing  to  put  Kate  under  ob- 
ligation, he  yielded  to  her  argument  inch  by  inch  and 
with  seeming  reluctance  acquiesced  in  her  conclusions. 
By  some  mysterious  process  his  aims  and  ideals  had 
altered.  The  position  of  a  diplomat  seemed  no  longer  so 
contemptible  to  him  as  it  had  done  in  the  days  when  he 
ran  for  the  legislature.  He  could  even  imagine  himself  dan- 
cing attendance  upon  the  rulers  of  the  effete  monarchies 
without  democratic  compunction.  Half  unconsciously 
his  bearing  changed,  as  he  listened  to  Kate's  subtle  flat- 
tery (for  it  suited  her  purpose,  just  then,  to  flatter),  and 
he  paced  the  floor,  holding  his  head  high,  with  a  tentative 
diplomatic  air.  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Pleni- 
potentiary of  the  United  States  of  America!  It  sounded 
extraordinarily  well  !  A  man  could  afford  to  sacrifice  a 
good  deal  in  return  for  such  a  dignity. 

His  acceptance  of  the  appointment  was  accordingly 
telegraphed  to  Washington,  and  the  next  day  all  the  news- 
papers of  the  Union  were  commenting  upon  it.  Thus  the 
vexed  summer  question  was  happily  solved.  Instead  of 
going  to  Newport  or  Bar  Harbor,  Kate  consented,  without 
persuasion,  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg.  But  her  spouse,  the 
minister,  was  far  from  suspecting  the  depth  of  exultation 
and  triumph  that  dwelt  in  her  heart  when  he  showed  her 
the  imposing  official  document  which  constituted  his  cre- 
dentials, and  the  tickets  for  Liverpool,  on  the  Cunarder 
Servia.  For  Kate  was  too  wise  to  boast ;  she  had  builded 
patiently  and  silently  for  many  years,  and  here  the  struct- 
ure of  her  ambition  stood  complete. 

On  the  night  before  the  Servia  sailed,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Adrian  Van  Schaak,  Sr.,  gave  a  dinner  at  their  residence 
in  Gramercy  Park  in  honor  of  their  son-in-law,  the 
Honorable  Horace  Larkin,  and  his  wife.  It  was  a  brilliant 
dinner,  and  many  distinguished  persons  were  present. 
The  newly  appointed  minister  sat  at  the  right  hand  of  his 
mother-in-law,  who  no  longer  paralyzed  him  with  her  loco- 
motive stare,  but  beamed  upon  him  a  gaze  of  maternal 
pride  and  admiration.  On  the  other  side  of  the  minister, 
enveloped  in  an  exquisite,  tantalizing  perfume,  sat  his  sis- 
ter-in-law, Mrs.  Adrian,  Jr.,  embarrassingly  decolletee,  charm- 
ingly natvt,  indiscreet,  and  brimming  over  with  mischief. 

"  Horace,"  she  said  to  the  guest  of  honor,  "  do  you  know 
I  once  thought  you  were  the  cleverest  man  I  had  ever 
known  ?  " 


384  THE  MAMMON 

"That  was  very  nice  of  you  to  think,"  he  responded  ; 
"  and  may  I  ask  to  what  I  owe  the  forfeiture  of  your  good 
opinion  ? " 

"  Oh,  well,  no — it's  scarcely  worth  while,  only  I'll  say 
this  ;  now  I  think  that  your  wife  is  the  cleverest  woman 
I've  ever  known." 

41  To  which  I  agree,  most  cordially." 

"Ah,  well,  you'd  better,  or  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  in  your 
shoes,"  cried  the  lady,  laughing. 

"Hush — sh — sh,  my  dear  child!"  Horace  warned,  dis- 
guising his  annoyance  ;  "  do  remember  there  are  people 
round  about  us  who  have  ears." 

"  But  they  are  such  very  long  ears,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Adrian,  with  her  gay,  irresponsible  air  ;  "  look  at  Adrian's 
there,  for  instance  ;  he  is  the  safest  man  in  the  world  to  say 
things  to  ;  in  fact  he  never  gets  anything  right,  so  you  can 
always  contradict  him,  and  he  never  gets  angry  any  more 
because  he  knows  it's  no  good." 

"  Well,  I  wish  his  wife  were  as  discreet  as  he." 

"  Do  you  really  ?  Well,  now,  you  do  me  injustice.  To- 
night, I  am  the  soul  of  discretion,  I  am  just  dying  to 
tell  you  something,  and  I  asked  mamma  to  put  me  next  to 
you,  so  that  I  might  have  the  chance.  But  I  haven't 
whispered  a  syllable  about  it  simply  because  I  didn't  want 
to  spoil  your  dinner." 

"  I  appreciate  your  kindness  ;  I  hope  your  good  resolu- 
tion will  last  till  the  coffee." 

"  Now,  Horace,  that's  simply  abominable.  I  am  going 
to  punish  you  for  that  ;  I  am  going  to  tell  you  now  and 
make  you  sea-sick  before  you've  finished  ihefaet." 

It  was  futile  that  he  resolved  to  pay  no  attention  to  her 
hints.  That  she  had  some  unpleasant  revelation  in  store 
for  him  was  evident.  Nor  could  he  hope  that  she  would 
spare  him  ;  for  she  hated  Kate  with  all  the  hate  of  which 
her  kittenish,  inconsequent  nature  was  capable.  And  she 
had  a  grudge  against  Kate's  husband  because  he  nursed 
her  pride  by  advancing  her  fortunes. 

"Well,"  she  resumed  after  a  pause  which  had  been 
devoted  to  ^ pate  ^i  sweetbreads,  "  Kate  made  a  diplomat 
of  you,  after  all." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  say  that  Kate  did  it,"  answered 
Horace,  with  a  sense  of  relief,  for  he  was  under  the  im- 
pression that  this  was  an  entirely  new  topic  ;  "  the  ap~ 
pointment  came  to  me  unsolicited  from  the  President. 
And  that  is  what  I  chiefly  value  about  it." 


OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.  385 

"  Unsolicited,  oho  !  "  cried  his  fair  tormentor,  her  eyes 
dancing  with  mischief  ;  "  and  that's  what  you  value  about 
it!  Well,  my  dear  brother-in-law,  if  you  won't  take  it 
amiss,  may  I  be  allowed  to  ask  you  a  question?  Aren't 
you  a  little  bit  fresh  ?  " 

Horace  colored  to  the  edge  of  his  hair.  This  certainly 
passed  the  limit  of  permissible  banter.  And  yet,  if  there 
was  something  behind  her  words  besides  a  desire  to  tease, 
he  had  better  know  it,  even  at  the  expense  of  his  pride. 
Laughter  and  animated  conversation  sounded  about  them, 
and  remarks  were  frequently  addressed  to  him  which  he 
had  to  answer.  In  order  not  to  attract  attention,  he 
artfully  involved  Mrs.  Adrian  in  a  dispute  with  the  Rus- 
sian Minister  from  Washington,  and  himself  with  some 
winged  platitudes  wooed  the  favor  of  her  ladyship  with 
the  fine  shoulders  and  the  gorgeous  diamonds  who  was  the 
minister's  wife.  But  when  the  dinner  was  at  an  end,  and 
the  company  had  broken  up  in  little  groups  scattered  on 
chairs  and  chaises  longues  in  the  large  salon,  he  approached 
his  sister-in-law  once  more  and  asked  her  to  explain  her 
delphic  utterances. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  without  reserve,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"  has  anyone,  as  far  as  you  know,  asked  this  appointment 
for  me  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean  by  your  insinuation  ?" 

"  I  meant  this,"  she  retorted,  a  slight  coldness  stealing 
into  her  manner,  "  that  Mr.  Van  Schaak  paid  $20,000  out 
of  Kate's  money  and  $25,000  of  his  own  to  the  Republican 
campaign  fund,  on  condition  that  you  should  have  this 
appointment." 

She  was  surprised  at  the  effect  of  her  words.  He 
turned  quite  pale  and  stared  with  a  look  of  intense  resent- 
ment toward  his  wife,  who  was  sitting  in  an  easy-chair  ac- 
cepting the  homage  of  the  Russian  Minister.  In  a  flash  he 
saw  the  whole  plot,  with  its  skilful  half-revelations  and 
concealments,  and  the  consummate  sagacity  and  patience 
with  which  it  had  been  advanced  and  developed  from  stage 
to  stage.  What  had  he. been  but  a  dupe  and  a  marionette 
in  his  wife's  hand  ?  She  pulled  the  wires  ;  he  performed 
the  part  and  arrogated  a  semblance  of  independence. 
But  in  the  midst  of  the  bitterness  of  his  resentment,  there 
awoke  a  feeling  of  profound  respect  and  admiration  for 
this  marvellously  cool  and  daring  woman,  who  conceived 
such  long  plans  and  carried  them  out  so  ruthlessly, 

25 


386  THE  MAMMON  OF   UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 

"  One  thing  more,  Annie,"  he  said  to  his  sister-in-law, 
as  she  made  a  motion  to  leave  him,  "  are  you  absolutely 
sure  that  you  have  told  me  the  truth — I  mean  that  you 
have  not  been  deceived  ? " 

"  I  can  show  you  a  letter  from  Q which  will  con- 
vince you." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  that  this  arrangement  was  made 
with  the  President  ? " 

"  No,  not  with  the  President  ;  but  with  some  one  very 
close  to  him  who  claimed  to  speak  for  him." 

"  Thank  you.  And  now,  Annie,  do  me  the  favor  not  to 
tell  Kate  that  I  know  this.  I'll  make  it  worth  your  while. 
Ask  anything  you  want  of  me  in  Russia,  and  you  shall 
have  it,  if  it  is  in  my  power  to  give  it." 

"  Agreed.  I'm  coming  over  next  year  with  Adrian  to  be 
presented  at  court  in  a  dress  that  will  make  Kate  ill. 
That  shall  be  my  reward." 

The  next  morning  at  seven,  when  the  Servia  steamed 
out  with  the  tide,  a  tall  gentleman,  extremely  comme  il  faut 
in  his  attire,  was  seen  walking  up  and  down  on  the  deck, 
holding  his  chin  well  up,  and  with  a  certain  diplomatic 
reserve  in  his  bearing.  His  hair  was  parted  in  the  middle, 
and  his  mustache  had  a  premeditated  curl,  which  hinted 
at  wax.  At  his  side  walked  a  handsome  lady,  with  a  cool 
and  contented  air  and  something  in  her  look  and  bearing 
which  indicated  the  grande  dame.  They  were  talking 
together  in  a  serene  and  undemonstrative  way,  apparently 
unconscious  of  the  sensation  they  were  making. 

Leaning  against  the  bulwarks  on  the  starboard  side 
stood  an  aspiring  novelist,  rejoicing  in  the  company  of  the 
pretty  young  girl  who  yesterday  became  his  wife. 

"Do  you  know  who  that  is?"  he  asked,  with  a  toss  of 
his  head  toward  the  distinguished  promenader. 

"  No,"  she  answered  ;  "  who  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  Mr.  Larkin,  the  newly-appointed  Minister  to 
Russia." 

"  He  is  not  handsome." 

"No,  but  he  dresses  well." 

"  And  he  is  so  distingue'.'' 

"Yes;  he  has  the  walk  of  a  Minister  Plenipotentiary 
and  Envoy  Extraordinary." 

"  How  proud  his  wife  must  be  of  him  ! " 

"Yes  ;  and  he  of  her." 


THE    END. 


i 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


CT1     1375  % 
T31 


ECEIVED  BY 

JUN8-19BB7B    bT(F    7  1984 


-    1996'CUlATION  DEPT. 


1973 


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tf 


APRl 


'558 


LD  21A-60m-10,'65 
(F7763slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


GENERAL  LIBRARY  -  U.C.  BERKELEY 


BDDD711ilMfl 


